


Lover Boy Lance

by PRINCE_L0T0R



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age of Consent Is 16, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bottom Lance (Voltron), Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Shiro (Voltron), Homophobia, Implied Transphobia, Lance in lingerie, Lance's Mom ain't havin it, Lotor is a sweetheart, M/M, Marco Is a Dick, Minecraft, Minor Allura/Lance (Voltron), One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Lance/Lotor (Voltron), Oral Sex, Pining Keith (Voltron), Platonic Sex, Porn With Plot, Sex Toys, TRIGGER WARNING for Homophobic/Transphobic Language, Transphobia, Underage Sex, cam boy Lance, mild violence, sex worker Lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2020-08-11 14:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PRINCE_L0T0R/pseuds/PRINCE_L0T0R
Summary: Lance is a cam boy, and a pretty good one at that. Only problem is he's still in high school. If anyone found out, he could get in serious trouble with the law, not to mention the fact that his mom would probably ground him for the rest of his life![This is intended to be light-hearted. Lance has sex while he's underage, but he's into it.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is lonely, lol

“Hey, guys! Welcome back! You will not _believe_ the week I had. I was so busy that I had to jerk off between classes just to keep from going crazy! Oh? You missed me too? That’s sweet. I have been itching to get back in front of the camera and show off my new outfit. Special thanks to AngelSlayer669 for donating it!”

Lance takes off his t-shirt to reveal the pale blue, lace teddy and stockings he has on underneath. Immediately, the gentle flame of comments appearing on his computer screen flickers into a roaring fire.

“Thank you! I was hoping you’d like it.” Lance drags delicate fingers up his legs to the exposed skin at his hips and ass. He loves to feel his body after he shaves, but he always makes himself wait until the stream. Skipping his crotch, he runs his nails over the lace flowers on his abdomen, causing another surge in comments. 

A green notification banner catches his attention.

**_BigDickRich_ sent you $50! He says: “ **`rub ur cock thru ur panties`** ”!**

Lance grins and obediently moves to palm himself, throwing his head back dramatically and groaning through his lips. He had to tuck to fit into this tight little getup, but he likes the way tucking makes him look in lingerie, and the different sensations he feels aren’t too bad either. Not five minutes into rubbing his crotch and ever so slightly rolling his hips, he gets another ding.

**_TwnkTaster388_ sent you $150! He says: “ ** `use your wand vibe over the lace, i know you want to slut` ** ”!**

Lance giggles, sitting up to reach his box of sex toys— which he keeps just off-screen. “You’re right about that,” he answers. He hasn’t figured out whether his viewers can see requests and donations, but he finds that acknowledging the people with money makes them give him more money. 

Bright pink vibrator in hand, he lays back on his bed with his legs splayed out for the camera. He has to hold a button for the vibe to start, and it always makes him jump because he loses track of the seconds. Lightly, he traces his dick with the head of the vibe, watching himself on his computer screen. Seeing himself this way drives Lance crazy; he can’t wait until he’s older and can dress someone else up in silk and lace.

The vibrator satisfies his audience for a good twenty minutes with intermittent requests for Lance to up the intensity or touch other parts of his body with his free hand. The boy is barely able to wait for someone to make him get naked because his erection gets uncomfortable fast in the teddy. When he takes off the stockings, he makes sure to go slower at the feet, flexing his painted toes up close to the camera.

**_f00tfetishxtreme_ sent you $100! He says: “ ** `thatnk yoiul` ** “!**

Lance winks to the familiar username. He doesn’t know any of his viewers in real life (At least he hopes he doesn’t, holy fuck), but he has come to recognize his regulars. 

He lays back again, touching the parts of his body now free to the air. “Can I cum before I penetrate myself?” he asks, stroking his dick at a painfully slow pace.

**_DadBodinaThong_ sent you $500! He says: “** `Yes, but you have to use cum and spit as lube. Nothing from the bottle.` **”!**

“Yes, sir.” Lance tries to angle his dick so that he’ll shoot semen on his chest, but he can’t stop himself from spasming and ends up getting himself in the face.

Three different users send him $50 with some variation of “You’re so fucking cute.” in the text box.

Lance licks his lips, getting a taste of his seed. “Thanks!” he laughs sheepishly. Then, following the instructions of more requests, he tries to get the rest of the semen from his face into his mouth, gets on his hands and knees, and fingers his asshole with cum covered hands. 

“I’m getting hard again,” Lance whimpers. He can only cum twice in a row, but he’s careful to make himself last long enough for a full hour of streaming. He keeps his ass in clear view, turning himself so his viewers can see that he’s biting his lower lip. “I’m thinking anal beads today. How about you?”

He smirks at the stream of yesses in the comments and almost laughs when some green banners pop up.

“`Yessssss`” $50

“`Holy fuckkyes inchf thisoe ffucking beedas into your tight ligttle asswhole`” $250

“`use the triangle ones`” $100

Lance slinks over to his toy box and procures the fan-favorite: his Spades Anal Beads. There are five beads on this baby; each with a two-inch diameter at its widest. He stares at the toy for a minute, thinking of how he’s going to get it in without lube. He puts the tip in his mouth, per command of another donor, and fits as much in as he can, allowing saliva to run freely down the smooth, black surface.

He spreads his ass and prods it with the beads, hoping his spit will be enough. Slowly, slowly, the first bead goes in, and Lance let’s out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

**_PapaBear1967_ sent you $100! He says: “** `You get 100 for the first bead. 200 for the next, then 300, ect `**”!**

Lance has never been able to fit all of the third bead in, but he sure as hell is going to try. Some guy is willing to give him fifteen-hundred for it! He opens his legs as much as he can and pushes the beads in until his arm shakes from the effort. The second bead is almost in— he can feel it— but it hurts. His instincts tell him to stop, to take it out.

**_AntonioFucks28_ sent you $150! He says: “**` Shove it in!!!` **”!**

Lance buries his face in his sheets and uses both hands to force the rest of the second bead in. He bites back a small cry.

**_PapaBear1967_ sent you $200! He says: “** ` good boy ` **”!**

“Thank you,” Lance whimpers. He gyrates his hips trying to get used to the sensation, holding the beads in place with his hand. He decides it will hurt less if he lays on his back, plus the audience can better see his erection from this angle. He plants his feet firmly on the bed and continues with the beads.

He manages to get the third bead in ($300), but then it pops out, making tears fall from the boy’s innocent blue eyes. He shakily replaces the third bead inside himself and gets halfway up the fourth before he slumps back in defeat. 

“I can’t do more,” he tells them, shaking his head. “It hurts too much without lube.”

**_DadBodinaThong_ sent you $500! He says: “** ` I didn’t think you would do it. Your such a good little boy<3 ` **”!**

**_HappyHillBilly_ sent you $200! He says: “** `pleas let the dildo fall out when u cum omgosh id be so hot :D `**”!**

“Okay, I-I’ll try.” He lets go of the beads to finish himself off. When a bead pops out, Lance makes another pitiful sound that his viewers eat up. He feels gross when he’s done, covered in sweat and cum and feeling that strange emptiness without something in his ass.

**_shoogermommuh_ sent $100! She says: “** `Show us that destroyed little hole, you anal fairy freak. `**”!**

Lance gets on his hands and knees again and spreads his cheeks for the camera, flexing and unflexing his ring. 

**_MolestMeansTouch_ sent $150! He says: “** `EAT YOUR ASS JUICE FROM THE PLUG!!` **”!**

Lance hesitates to put the dirty toy in his mouth, but he never denies a request. It tastes as disgusting as he imagined it would, so he covers the surface with his tongue, kisses the tip, and gives his goodnight.

“Thank you all so much for watching! Be sure to turn on notifications for my next stream announcement. This is Lover Boy, signing off!” He ends the live stream smiling, then collapses face-first onto his bed.

Lance wishes someone would carry him to the shower; he’s exhausted. He touches his naked backside and pretends it is by the hand of a lover. 

“You have to get up, baby,” he whispers to himself. “I know, I know.”

The boy rolls out of bed and starts clean up: ripping off the one-time-use sheet from over his made covers and throwing it away, deleting his internet history and stowing his laptop in its case, putting on his robe and tucking his vibrator and anal beads inside (in case he runs into anybody in the hallway), and heading downstairs to the second story shower. He tosses the dildo in the tub while the water heats up and uses the sink to hand-clean the vibrator head. 

His reflection in the mirror above the sink looks ragged— probably because he’s so tired and he was crying. He scolds himself mentally. If he keeps crying every time he cums, everyone is going to think that he is younger than he says he is. Well, he _is_ younger than he says he is, but he doesn’t want his viewers to think that.

In the shower, the running water rejuvenates him by some degree. He frowns at the blood that comes out of his ass, but he doesn’t panic like he used to; this happens when you don’t use enough lube. Lance did a bunch of research about it, and he sees anal fissures as more of an annoyance now than a problem. He can only blame himself, though. It was probably unwise to suggest anal beads— especially the big ones— after agreeing not to use lubricant, but he was really in the mood for them. He made more than $7,000 tonight, which is pretty good for a Tuesday, so he supposes it was worth the pain.

After Lance cleans himself— inside and out— he runs his hands over his body; from his pubic area, up over his belly, across his chest, up his neck, to his lips. He kisses his hand, softly at first, then harder, again and again. He kisses his palm and his wrist, and his fingers again when he presses the heel of his hand to his jaw, to his neck, his collar bone, imagining that some else is here, kissing him back.

Lance turns off the water abruptly. He finishes his nightly skin and hair routine and steps quietly back to his room with the clean toys. When he lays down, all of the energy accrued from the shower dissipates. He checks his phone and notes that he can get five and a half hours if he sleeps in 'til seven. 

It's always risky doing a show on a school night, but Lance was desperate for the attention his viewers give him; plus, he doesn't have any homework due tomorrow. Livestreams are a lot less work than the jobs most of the kids his age have, anyway— and they pay a lot better. His family doesn't have extra money to send him to college, so if Lance wants to go and get some degree to get some respectable job, he has to earn enough himself. He's been reconsidering the college path lately, however. What if he could stay in _this_ line of work? Maybe he could try out professional porn when he's eighteen. 

Despite his enthusiasm, he cringes at the thought of being a pornstar. It's the title, really, that bothers him. In this world, your job defines who you are and where you fit. Lance doesn't want anyone to think he's just a fickle manwhore, and his family would never approve if they found out. They would probably disown him or something if they knew what he does now, in the dark of night, hidden up in his attic bedroom.

Lance wishes he didn't have to feel so guilty for all the things that make him feel good. More than anything, he wishes he had someone to confide in— someone not in his family— someone who wouldn't shame him for his secrets or his sexuality or anything, really. His viewers keep him entertained, but what he really, _really_ wants is for someone to love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic kind of snowballed in my fevered mind one night, and since it's supposed to be silly, maybe we can expect relatively fast (compared to my other fics, lol) updates?? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Y'all can never know with me:) Expect a chapter two within the next few days, though (bc it's already almost done)


	2. Chapter 2

“Lance, I swear to God, if I’m late because you were doing your makeup, I’m going to kill you!” Maro shouts through the door. “You better not be asleep right now!”

“I’m awake!” Lance shouts back. “And it’s not makeup; it’s _skincare_! But you wouldn’t know anything about that!” He stomps to the bathroom after getting dressed and slams the door because he knows it annoys his brother. When he removes his overnight face mask, he frowns at the dark eye bags on his face. He tries to do a live stream twice a week, but school has been asking more and more of him lately; it’s all starting to take a toll. Lance wipes concealer under his eyes, being careful to hide the tube in his sleeve in case Marco comes in or something.

Lance really hates Marco. They used to be friends when they were younger— even though they fought often— but now Marco is crueler than a big brother ought to be. Once, he pushed Lance down the stairs from the attic, then kicked him down the second set. What kind of psycho does that to his own family?

“Uncle Lance?” Sylvio’s little voice comes from behind the door.

Shit. He was spacing out in the mirror again. He puts his products away and opens the door. “What’s up, little dude?”

“Uncle Marco says he’s leaving in ten minutes.”

“Of course he is,” Lance mutters, hurrying to the kitchen to grab something quick.

“No food in my car,” Marco says, slapping Lance’s hand away from a protein bar. “Now let’s go!” He grabs Lance’s arm and starts dragging him to the door.

“Stop that! I’m coming!” He shoves his brother away and gets in the backseat; his sister Rachel is already in the front. Lance misses his sister Veronica, and he misses when _she_ drove them all to school. Ronni’s the only one who really understands him, but she’s in college now. He only sees her occasionally. His oldest brother Luis isn’t so bad, but when he’s not at work, he’s taking care of his kids.

Lance pushes Keith’s backpack out of his chair when he arrives in class, making some off-hand comment about the other’s stupid hair.

“What the hell, man?” Keith grumbles, retrieving his bag from the floor. “You’re one to talk. Did you not get enough beauty sleep, princess?”

Lance’s mouth gapes in offense. “Excuse me? I am perfection from head to toe! My hair is-”

Keith smirks as he holds up his phone with the front-facing camera for Lance to see.

“So I missed a step,” Lance huffs, taking the clips out of his hair and using the screen as a mirror to put the locks in their place. “At least I have steps to take. You probably don’t even wash your hair!”

Keith rolls his eyes and replaces his phone in his pocket. And did he take a picture of Lance just before?

Lance shakes his head. “And, since you are so curious to know, I _did not_ get enough sleep last night,” he pouts.

“Was it worth it to procrastinate the project and do it all in one night?”

Lance freezes, then narrows his eyes. “There is no project.”

Keith suppresses a smile. That could mean anything! “You didn’t do it?”

“You’re trying to trick me, but it’s not going to work.” Lance is a prank master; he will never fall for Keith’s feeble attempt to get him back. 

The horribly-haired boy raises his eyebrows saying, “Oh, yeah? Prove it.” Keith nods to the board. “It says right there: ‘All projects due tomorrow, Wednesday. No late projects will be accepted.’”

If Lance even looks at the board to see, Keith wins. He won’t do it.

“Oh, Mr. Northman is writing something else. ‘Due _today_,’ it says now; that’s in all caps.” Keith’s grin is the one he always wears when he knows something Lance doesn’t.

“You’re not going to get to me, Keith.” Lance showcases his newfound nonchalance by calmly getting out his notebook and pens and pretending to read yesterday’s notes. “I don’t really care what happens to my grades. I don’t even care if I graduate, at this point.”

Now Keith scowls in disbelief. “Yeah, right. I bet you wouldn’t talk like that in front of Veronica.”

“How do _you_ know Veronica?”

“Seriously? You never stop talking about her.” Keith puts on a falsetto. “_I’m Lance. My sister Veronica is so cool! Veronica’s the first person in our family to go to college _ and _ she started a year early. Veronica took me to lunch this weekend; she’s working on a secret research project at the Garrison that’s going to save the world!_”

“I don’t sound like that,” Lance mutters. “And I don’t talk about her _that_ much. I just miss her.”

“The Garrison isn’t even that far, Lance,” Keith grimaces. “She’s literally minutes away. Imagine how much you’d miss her if she was dead.”

The playful tone of the conversation dies with that.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lance asks, but Keith has already shut down. 

Keith always does this; he’ll be talking like a normal person, suddenly say something weird and cryptic, and then stop talking completely. It gets on Lance’s nerves.

At lunch, Pidge makes the face.

“I didn’t do anything!” Lance defends.

“I didn’t ask yet what you did,” Pidge points out. “But, yeah, what did you say to Keith this time?”

Lance glances at their emo friend, who has his head down across the table. “I’m not sure.” He wants to make it better, but it depends on Keith. They have to let him come to them.

“Do you have lunch today?” Hunk asks Lance when he shows up.

Lance just sighs. “I woke up late,” he mumbles. 

Hunk smiles sympathetically. “I’ve got you, buddy,” he says, pulling out a Tupperware container with home-cooked food.

“I love you,” Lance moans, graciously accepting the box. He opens it, letting those sweet Samoan fumes waft into his nose tubes. “Hunk, will you please marry me when we grow up?”

Keith looks up from his arms.

“Don’t worry, Keith. I brought some for you too.” Hunk lays an identical box in front of Keith and then pulls out another for himself.

“Thanks,” Keith mutters. “I don’t deserve this.”

Hunk gives Lance side-eye, silently asking what he did to put Keith in a mood. “Everyone deserves to eat, and if I don’t bring you food, you won’t.” He purses his lips at Lance. “Same goes for you.”

“Well don’t bring any tomorrow.” Lance wipes a bit of sauce from his chin. “Let’s go off-campus. I’ll buy. Even for you, vegan.”

“I’m a vegetarian,” Pidge corrects. “And with what money? I thought Marco stole your shoebox savings.”

“He did, but I have a job now.” Lance hasn’t told anyone how he gets money, but he has enough to be generous, so he is.

“Oh, yeah? Where?”

“It’s a secret,” Lance winks. “I’ll never tell.” If he’s over the top about keeping his work from them, then they probably won’t figure out that he has an actual, serious secret. Most people think Lance is naive and wears his heart on his sleeve, so he plays to that and uses it to his advantage.

Hunk gasps, a little hurt. “You don’t want us to hang out with you while you work?”

Lance forces a laugh, imagining his friends all gathered in his tiny attic bedroom while he fucks himself in front of his camera. “You could say that.”

The next day, they meet in front of the office to go off campus, but Keith starts toward the library.

“Wait!” Lance catches his wrist and pulls him back. “We’re going to lunch. Remember?”

Keith’s eyes widen. “With me? I didn’t think I was invited.”

Lance laughs, ushering the boy along. “Why wouldn’t you be invited?”

“I thought you were mad at me,” Keith mutters, head down. “You hate me.”

“What?”

“Because I said something weird?”

Lance laughs again. “Keith, I know you’re weird, and I’ve accepted it.” He pulls Keith into an awkward hug while they walk. “I could never hate you.” Then he pushes him away playfully saying, “Except maybe for your stupid hair!”

Keith smiles. It’s not one of those wicked grins he uses to taunt Lance, but one that suggests joy. It’s cute.

Lance blushes and turns away to lead his friends to a place to eat. 

“What kind of budget are we working around?” Pidge asks.

“Get whatever you want!” Lance shouts as they cross the street, throwing his hands into the air like he’s presenting the world to them. “My love for you has no budget.”

They settle on a cafe that’s also a deli and take seats by a window in the back. From here, you can see a little pond with trees lined all around it. It’s beautiful, even now in the strange space between winter and spring.

“This place is adorable,” Lance coos. “We _have_ to come back here.”

“You just spent fifty dollars on one meal,” Pidge says, sipping the mocha she holds with two hands. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

A few months ago, Lance couldn’t imagine spending fifty dollars on _anything_, let alone something so fleeting as food. But things are different now. The minimum donation on his streaming site is fifty dollars; he gets that from something as simple as winking sometimes. 

“I have a job now,” Lance reminds them. He probably shouldn’t act like he has a lot of money, though; it’s too suspicious. “I don’t have to pay taxes or anything like that. And this was a treat. You all have parents you can ask for money next time.”

Keith chokes on his sandwich and sets it down, looking hurt.

“No he doesn’t,” Pidge scolds. “Keith is an orphan, asshole.”

“Geez, Lance,” Hunk grimaces.

“What?” Lance gasps. “How did I not know that? I feel like a should know that.” He turns to Keith. “I am so fucking sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Keith rolls his eyes, taking up his drink. “You just caught me off guard is all.”

“I’ll pay for you when we go out, then,” Lance says matter-of-factly.

Keith chokes again on tea. “You don’t have to do that.” His face is pink, but Lance can’t tell whether it’s from choking so much or from blushing.

Hunk pats Keith’s back to soothe him. 

“Whatever.” Pidge checks something on her phone. “We shouldn’t go out again for a while anyway. Midterms are in two weeks; we should utilize lunch to study.”

Lance slumps in his chair. “Fuck.” Then he perks up. “Wait. That means it’s almost February! High time to switch blues for reds,” he says almost sensually.

Hunk shakes his head. “Lance, I’ve known you for— like— ever, and never _once_ have I seen you wear red.”

“I’m not talking about my outside clothes,” he winks.

Keith takes an especially large bite of his sandwich and swallows it without chewing.

“Oh, please,” Pidge laughs. “Like the color of your boxers is going to change how many people you sleep with.” Then she mouths, “Zero.”

“You don’t know my life,” he says rather haughtily, the lace of his panties burning into his skin. 

“I know that you’re a virgin.”

“Wha- How?”

“Yeah,” Hunk joins in. “Can you really tell?”

“Well, I can only tell with Lance. He and my brother are basically the same person, and when Matt finally got laid...I could just tell. I don’t know. It’s- like- you know- the way you talk about it is different.”

“You’re making that up,” Lance asserts.

“Are you?” Keith blurts. Then his eyes widen like he can’t believe he just opened his mouth to speak.

“What?

“A virgin?”

“Oh.” Lance’s gaze goes back to the window. He isn’t sure whether he is a virgin or not. He’s never penetrated nor has he been penetrated by anyone before, though he had some heated make-out sessions with girls in middle school. He doesn’t think masturbating counts as sex, but can he call his live streams masturbating? He doesn’t feel alone when he does that. If people masturbate together, does that count as sex?

“I think so?” he says finally.

The table laughs, Lance included— though more out of embarrassment than amusement.

“My mamá would kill me if I wasn’t!” he exclaims. _Or_, he adds to himself, _if she knew what I am doing now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect a fast pace because this fic takes place over the course of a few years, but I don't want to spend a few years writing it, you know? If something is confusing, please ask for clarification in the comments, or maybe I'll fix it in the text if it's bad enough. 
> 
> Thank you for reading uwu <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day :)

“Oh my god, I’m so glad midterms are over!” Lance stretches out in the library, laying dramatically across Hunk, Pidge, and Keith (his head on Keith’s lap;). “And I’ve been working extra this week too. Ugh! I’m exhausted.”

Pidge, who is still studying for some reason, rests her book on Lance’s stomach. “Are you saving up for Valentine’s Day this Friday? You seem to be into that sort of thing.”

“Nah, I’m single this year.” Lance glances around the library for prospective partners, then turns back to raise an eyebrow at Keith, who is watching him intently.

“Oh!” Hunk perks up. “Does that mean you’ll be free to binge rom-coms and eat shit food with us this year? It’s not too late to join.”

“No,” Lance apologizes. He puts his hands over his face. “I work.”

Keith takes his hands away to scowl in his face. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you work on Friday? Can’t you ask off or something?”

Lance’s face splits into a grin. “Are you asking me out on a date?” he teases.

Keith grunts and rolls Lance onto the ground.

“Hey!” Lance cries. He scoots across the floor to put his head on Hunk’s lap instead. “I was joking. You didn’t have to fucking throw me,” he spits at Keith.

Keith isn’t listening though; he is turned away, crossing his arms.

“It’s unlike you to work during anything even resembling a holiday,” Pidge says skeptically, retrieving her book from where it fell. “What gives?”

Lance bites the inside of his cheek. It’s not like he can tell them he’s doing a special live stream for the occasion, and lonely old men will flock by the hundreds to watch him spread his legs. 

“I think I’m going to get paid extra,” Lance shrugs.

“You don’t know?”

“I work for tips,” he says quickly. “People think I’m pretty, and they give me money.”

Damnit. That last bit was probably too much information. Even Keith turns back around to furrow his brow. 

“I also flirt with anyone who shows up, though,” Lance adds. “And people generally like that.” What is he saying?!

“So you’re a server?” Pidge guesses. “You could have just said that and not told us where.”

Lance shrugs again, hoping they can believe he is an innocent food worker without him having to explicitly lie to them.

When Valentine’s Day finally does come around, Lance is a blushing mess despite being single. He goes through the normal school day distracted and anxious. He gets home and plays nice with Marco so he doesn’t have to do any surprise chores as penance, and after dinner, he turns in early. 

“It’s been a long week,” he yawns when his mother asks what’s wrong.

“You’re a handsome boy, like your father, Lancito,” she smiles knowingly. “Don’t you worry about romance for now; the right girl will come when the time is right.”  
Lance laughs awkwardly. “Right… Goodnight then!” He almost runs up the stairs so that he won’t have to look at his family any longer while he wears this thing. He locks his door, pushes his toy box against it for good measure, and sets up his equipment. When that’s done, he gets into his secret stash of makeup to add simple highlights and lowlights to his face. Then he sets out the toys he’s going to use for the special live stream.

**Announcements:  
** LoverBoy<3 : “` Hey, guys!! One more hour until we start tonight’s two-hour show!!! I can’t wait to see you there! And I can’t wait for you to see me ;) `”  
**February 14 @ 9:03 pm CST**

He smiles at the flood of responses to his inbox. Notifications in general make him happy, but his viewers really know how to make a guy blush. When his friends are busy at lunch, Lance often finds a quiet spot in the library where he reads over comments and messages from the streaming site via email. He used to worry the school would find out what he was doing because he uses their wifi, but he’s on a private email, so he’s safe.

Lance checks the time— only ten minutes since last he checked. He feels anxious. He decides to take off his shoes before he starts, but he leaves his socks and all his other school clothes. Should he go to the bathroom first? But he’s wearing makeup; Marco would kill him if he sees him. And Lance can’t leave his room unattended with his camera set up and his toys set out. 

**Announcements:  
** LoverBoy<3 : “` 30 more minutes :) `”  
**February 14 @ 9:30 pm CST**

Another stream of messages lights up his phone. He entertains himself with those until his ten-minute warning alarm goes off. 

**Announcements:  
** LoverBoy<3 : “` Don’t forget: If you want to participate in the Q&A, the minimum donation for questions is $100! And use question marks so I see it <3 `”  
**February 14 @ 9:51 pm CST**

Lance places himself precariously on his bed, deciding to start with his legs together; he has plenty of time to warm up. Each second seems to take longer than the last until, finally-

“Hey, guys! Welcome back! I hope you’ve had a wonderful day so far, and if not, no sweat. We’re going to have a great time tonight. I have some surprises planned,” he winks. 

**_DavidWhite_ sent you $50! He says: “ **`Take it off` **”!**

Lance giggles, messing the hem of his shirt with nervous fingers. “The first surprise.” He removes his top slowly. “I’ve been wearing this all day, y’know,” he purrs. “I could barely focus in my classes because of the way the straps pull when I sit down, but it only made me more excited for tonight.” He plucks a few of the bright red straps to show how tight they are. “I don’t how I’m going to last two hours! You know how sleepy I get after I cum.”

Comments without donations and donations without comments pop up commending his cuteness. 

“How about some questions now?” he suggests.

**_Milky_MILF_ sent you $100! She says: “**` which one of your toys is your favourite? `**”!**

“My favorite toy? Man, I don’t know.” He works his jeans down his hips as he talks. “I have a lot of fun with the vibrating butt plug someone sent a few weeks ago; I like that I can let it run while I relax.” He stops with his pants just above his bulge and licks his lips. “Sometimes I pretend like I’m tied up with it inside me.” 

**_Prince.of.Planet.Doom_* sent you $100! He says: “**`Have you ever considered BDSM? You would do wonderfully as a sub.`** “!**

“Um, I’ve thought about BDSM, yeah, but I mostly just imagine it. There’s not a lot I can do on my own in that department. Oh!” Lance finally kicks off his bottoms, eliciting more comments complementing his Valentine’s Day lingerie. “That reminds me: I’m in the market for a fucking machine.” He gets up on his knees— like he’s on a saddle— and puts his hands on the support beam above his head. “I could set myself up like this and maybe use a belt or something to secure my hands. Then it would really be like someone else is here!” 

He lets himself picture it for just a moment: his hands bound above him; someone else’s hands gripping his hips hard, using them as leverage to fuck him into oblivion. 

“But I have no idea where to look, what I need, what will even work. If you guys have any suggestions, please let me know in the discussion board on my page!” 

Lance sits back down, legs open so that his ass and face are both onscreen, and gropes himself over his panties. 

“Do you like this little suit? I actually picked it because it looks kinda like bondage ropes.” 

A few comments and donations say that yes, they do like it. 

Lance continues with the Q and A, answering carefully but— for the most part— honestly. At the same time, he rubs himself until he is so hard he has to take off the thong, stretches his asshole with heavily lubed fingers and a few graduated butt plugs, and puts two vibrating cock rings around his erection: one at the base with the vibrator on his balls, the other just under the head with the vibrator on the little split. He only turns on the one at the base at first; just that makes it difficult for him to think. 

“I think I can do one more question before I need to focus on the show,” Lance mutters through a blush. 

**_Space_Daddy_ sent you $100! He says: “**` How old are you?` **”!**

Lance smiles the way he always does before he lies. “I am eighteen years old.” His giggle is stifled by a little moan. “Mm. That vibe’s in a good spot.” 

He grabs the pre-finale— a two-foot-long, blue, sparkly, jelly anal dildo with an inch-and-a-half diameter— from his bedside and lubes it up while laying back on some pillows, legs splayed out in front. 

“Some of you missed this one, huh?” he remarks. “I like it a lot, too.” 

Lance uses two fingers to open his ass for the tip of the giant jelly cock; it goes about two inches before he has to pump it to get it to go farther. It’s a little harder to do than he thought because of the vibe. Even though he moves slowly, he feels hot and sexual tension seizes his limbs, only being released through uncontrolled gasps and moans. 

“_Fuck_,” he breathes. He has a whole foot inside him now, digging his heels into the mattress in instinctive protest. 

**_f00tfetishxtreme_ sent you $150! He says: “** `plfeatse takje ofdf youor soodscks`** “!**

“Right.” Lance holds the dildo in place and rips off the socks, now free to grip the sheets with his toes. 

He decides to turn on the other vibrator, but that sends him over the edge almost immediately. He cries out, barely managing to contain a scream. 

**_390i03273050ei_ sent you $1000! He says: “**` HANDS AND KNEES` **”!**

$1000? Is he seeing that right? For one request? 

Regardless, he obediently moves to his hands and knees, except he can’t stay like that, so it’s elbows and knees. 

He tries to keep fucking himself, but the vibes and cock rings are so much; it hurts a lot, but it feels _so good_. He sobs from the sensation into the sheets. 

How much longer can he keep this up? He thought he was done for a while ago, but he promised his viewers a two-hour show. He can’t stop. 

**_Space_Daddy_ sent you $500! He says: “**` Maybe it’s time to take off those rings? It’s been more than 30 minutes... I don’t want you to hurt yourself :( ` **”!**

The dildo shoots out of his ass with a little _plop_ when he lets go of it, though he hardly notices. He doesn’t even turn off the vibrators when he releases himself from the cock rings. Then he stands on his knees and cums through his tears. It’s the most involved orgasm he’s ever had: his whole body jerks, he yells probably loud enough to wake someone up, and he swears he sees stars hundreds of billions of lightyears from Earth. 

He collapses, breathing hard, but he’s still in the heat of the moment, his clean hand gripping his hair, his dirty hand at his mouth where he laps at his cum, making a new mess all over his face. Even when he calms down, it’s still like he’s floating. 

There are still twenty minutes left on the clock, so he decides to go through with his original plan, despite his exhaustion. 

“I have one last surprise for you tonight,” he smirks, crawling off-camera to retrieve his brand new alien dildo. “I’ve never played with something like this before.” He fails to quiet a nervous, almost maniacal, laugh. “I’m kinda scared.” 

Scary is the only way Lance knows how to describe the dildo. It’s huge— bigger than his forearm— and the shape is like...it’s like...two giant dicks fused together. But they’re also mecha, and they’re also reptilian. 

“A very special thanks to...teenGui11otine for having this custom made for me!” He lets out a breath. “Okay.” 

He applies a very liberal amount of lube to the toy and then gets on his knees again, facing away from the screen this time. Carefully, carefully he lowers himself onto the strange cock. He has a lot of trouble because his asshole is so sensitive right now, and the longer he stays up on his knees, the more they quake. 

Lance lets out a long, shaky moan when he finally sits on his bed— the entire thing inside him. 

“Fuck. _Fuck_.” 

He lifts and drops himself, leaning forward onto his arms for support, in order to fuck the giant, alien dildo. When he can’t make his legs take him back up, he lays on his side and grabs the base with his hand to keep it going. There’s no way he’s going to cum again, so he stops a couple of minutes before midnight. 

**_BelindaBlumenthal01_ sent you $100! She says: “** ` pukker theat as$s little boy.` ** ”!**

**_MolestMeansTouch_ sent you $300! He says: “** ` e a t i t ` **”!**

Without really thinking, Lance stuffs his mouth with the lube-covered, deep-ass-flavored fuck-stick. He gags, but something in him likes it, and he keeps going. At the same time, he lifts his buttcheek to show off his gaping hole. He looks back at the screen and flinches the bright red, fleshy hollow behind him. 

“It’s going to take a little while for me to recover from this,” he notes soberly. “Good thing it’s the weekend!” He turns onto his back. “I’m so tired; I’m tempted to not even clean up after myself tonight, to sleep in this mess.” 

He is very tired, but Lance would never. 

“Anyway, I hope you had fun,” he winks. “I feel...amazing. Oh, yeah! Don’t forget to post suggestions for a fucking machine, and if you want to send me something, mailing information is on my page. I can’t wait to see you all again! But until then, happy Valentine’s Day!” He lifts one arm to do a two-finger salute. “This is Lover Boy, signing off.” 

Lance turns off the camera and closes his laptop. He intends to put everything away tonight, but when he moves to sit up, he shivers in pain; there’s no blinding pleasure to it now. He eventually gets past his barricaded door and downstairs to the shower, washing himself and his toys, but he can’t make himself meticulously replace everything in his room before he passes out on the dirty, single-use sheet. 

It’s a good thing Marco doesn’t barge into his room on the weekend mornings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! This fic is a lot easier to write than the others because it's not super serious, but school is happening again, so I don't have a whole lot of extra time. Maybe expect a week or two between updates, but I'll upload chapters as soon as they're written.
> 
> Also, hehe, foreshadowing


	4. Chapter 4

Lance chokes on his breakfast when he sees how much money he made Valentine’s Day. The week leading up to it was kind of slow in terms of donations per live stream, but on Friday Lance made $21,250. That’s more than three really good shows combined!

“Lance! No phone at the table,” his mother scolds. 

“Sorry, Mami.” Lance tucks his phone in his pocket, suddenly unsure of whether he read that number right. With all that he’s saved, he can probably cover his undergraduate expenses at the Garrison (if he gets in), and that’s without any scholarships. That makes his soreness today worth it. But he wonders: If he has enough money, should he keep live streaming? He only started so he could get money for college. Is it too early to save for grad school?

“What are you thinking about, baby?” his mom asks. “You look so focussed.”

“Uh…” Lance sets down the empty spoon he almost put in his mouth. “I’m thinking about school-”

“That’s a lie!” Marco butts in. “You were probably thinking about whatever messed up porno you were watching last night, creep! I could hear it through the vent in my room!”

“No!” Mamá shouts. “Don’t say that! Especially not at my table!” She scoffs in disgust as Marco leaves the room, turning back to her youngest. “What were you saying, baby?”

Lance’s hands shake under the table; Marco heard him. Does he know it was Lance making those sounds? Does he know what he was doing last night?

“Lancito?”

He smiles to hide his panic. “I’m thinking about the Garrison; I wonder if I can do the early admission thing Veronica did. The one where she was still a senior but also a freshman?”

His mother purses her lips and is quiet for a moment. “That’s a very competitive program, sweetheart.”

Lance’s smile falters. “I-I know. I’m not a genius like Pidge, but I’m smart.”

“Of course you are! It’s just-”

“I think I’ve got a shot, at least.” He was confident in this, but his mother’s reactions give him doubts. “If I apply myself and study and stuff, I think I could at least qualify.”

His mom takes a deep breath and sighs. “You’re right, Lance. If you work hard, you can do it; I know you can.” She glances helplessly around the kitchen as she admits, “But we don’t have any extra money right now to give you the tools we could give Veronica.”

A pang of guilt hits Lance. He could probably solve all his family’s financial troubles if they’d let him, but even if they would accept his money, he couldn’t tell them how he got it. “I have a little bit saved up,” he says. “I can get my own stuff. And Pidge and Hunk and Keith and I, we’re all going to study together.”

“I thought you lost your money,” Mamá winces.

“I didn’t lose it; Marco stole it.” Lance rolls his eyes, “But anyway, I can take care of it, a study book and stuff.”

His mom sighs again. “I suppose I should tell you then: the Holts called. They said they could get you a discount for a prep course since they’re professors at the Garrison, but it’s still sixty dollars— and the book is twenty.”

Lance nods. He doesn’t want to seem like eighty dollars isn’t that much to him. “I can do that,” he says. 

The next Monday, Lance brings up the prep course to his friends. 

“Hunk and I enrolled, like, two weeks ago,” Pidge says. She holds up the book she was reading to show the cover: _U.S. Galaxy Garrison Pre-Admission Entrance Exam Preparation Guide_. “I’ve been working through this since midterms.”

Lance looks at Keith, who seems worried too. “Is it too late to enroll? I- I don’t know if I have a chance without help.”

“There’s still space!” Hunk exclaims. “I think like five spots left or something, but get in now if you’re going to do it. The class is doing a diagnostic test next week, and you’ll want to be there for that. We’re still going to study together either way, though, right?”

“Yeah!” Lance pulls out his phone. “I’ll enroll right now.” He enters all his information but hesitates over the “add student” button. “Keith, are you in?” He looks up when the other doesn’t answer.

“I can’t afford it,” Keith mumbles, starting to close himself off from them, but Lance won’t have it.

“But...you want to do it, right?”

Keith swallows. Then he shrugs. Then he nods.

“I’ve got you, buddy,” Lance smiles, adding Keith’s information to his tab. 

“You can’t-”

“Up-bup-bup!”

“But-”

“Nope! I already paid for it,” Lance says, showing his digital receipt, “so you have to go.”

“I….” Keith looks distraught like something is burning on his tongue, but he refuses to spit it out. “Thank you,” he says.

“Yeah, damn, Lance,” Pidge laughs. “That was generous.”

Lance glances at each of his friends, hoping they don’t think it was _too_ generous. “Yeah, well…” His eyes land on Keith. “I can’t imagine doing this without you.” He winks, and you would have thought Lance pulled out a gun for Keith’s reaction, jumping out of his seat and running to the bathroom the way he does.

A week later, the gang is at Pidge’s house, going over everything they missed on the diagnostic exam. Lance did the worst of the four of them, but he doesn’t beat himself up too much about it because his friends are literal prodigies, and Lance did better than he thought he would at the beginning anyway. 

They study dutifully until Hunk throws down his pencil and stands suddenly. 

“Guys,” he says seriously. “Can we make a promise?” 

Lance nods, and Keith and Pidge watch to see what Hunk has to say.

“It’s really hard to get into the Garrison, like, at all, and it’s even harder to get into the Garrison like this, so let’s promise…” Hunk makes eye contact with each of them and nods curtly. “Let’s promise to stay best friends and be happy for each other, no matter who gets in or who doesn’t. Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Lance pumps his fist, standing as well.

“Yeah, okay,” Pidge says, calmly continuing her work.

Keith laughs quietly through his nose and turns a page in his book, but Lance can tell he’s moved.

When Pidge finishes going through her test, she helps Lance go through his. It takes longer this way because Pidge explains everything and waits for Lance to understand instead of just writing the answer explanation from the book like he was doing before. It’s kind of exhausting, but Lance feels really smart when they finally finish.

“Okay, now get out of my house,” Pidge shoos. “My Dad is teaching me to drive, but I’m not allowed behind the wheel unless I get at least nine hours of sleep, and it’s already ten.”

Keith flinches. “It’s already ten?”

“Well,” Hunk looks at his watch, “it’s actually ten-ten. Ten-eleven.”

“Shit,” Keith mumbles, packing his bag. He stops, looks at Lance, then starts packing his bag again. 

Lance texts his mom, telling her he’s ready for her to get him and apologizing for being late, and Keith hovers silently while they wait in Pidge’s living room for almost ten minutes before he finally utters an “uh...Lance?”

“Yeah?” Lance raises an eyebrow. “What’s up, buddy? Do you need a ride?”

Keith nods. “Um, actually...can I stay at your house tonight?” He fidgets with his backpack zipper and looks everywhere but Lance’s face, holding his breath for an answer.

“Yeah, probably.” He smiles when he catches Keith’s eye for a second. “Is there a reason, or are you finally willing to admit that you like me?”

“What?!”

That got him to look.

“That you don’t actually hate me,” Lance explains. “Cause we’re friends?”

“I couldn’t hate you if I tried,” Keith sighs, slumping and looking away again. “I’m past curfew is why; they don’t let anyone into the home after ten. But I-I don’t _have_ to go to your house if you don’t want me there. I can usually sleep for like four hours at IHOP before they kick me ou-“

“No!” Lance gapes. “I’ll sneak you in my backpack if I have to, but you can’t sleep at IHOP!”

Lance whispers the story to his mom when she arrives, and her bleeding heart accepts Keith with open arms, offering him a place to sleep and a warm meal at their house any time he needs one. 

The way Keith follows Lance around when they get to his house is kind of cute, but he drops him off in his room to get settled so Lance can complete his skincare routine. When he comes back, Keith snaps shut the lid of Lance’s toy box and crawls backward until he hits Lance’s desk, red in the face and eyes open wide.

“Sorry!” he squeaks. “I didn’t mean- I mean- What? I wasn’t-”

“What are you doing?!” Lance whisper-yells, also red in the face.

“I don’t know!”

“What did you see?!”

“I-I don’t know! I was looking for blankets!” Keith covers his face with his hands, only opening his fingers to see Lance. “I was going to make a pallet on the floor.”

Lance shakes his head. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor!” He turns around, walks out of his room, screams quietly, and comes back in. “Sleep in my bed.”

Keith’s eyes somehow get even wider.

“I’m not going to fuck you or anything!”

The boy on the floor gulps. He grabs his hair and shakes his head. Then he nods, slowly removing his hands from his face. “Okay.”

It’s awkward getting into the bed and then trying to go to sleep after that. Lance lays on his back, pressed up against the slanted wall of his attic bedroom, and Keith makes himself into a ball— half on the bed, half off— with his back to Lance. There is about a foot of space between them in the middle of the bed, but Lance is afraid to make Keith more uncomfortable than he already is, so he keeps his distance.

A silent, sleepless hour goes by for Lance. He can’t sleep thinking about what has happened: Marco heard him during his last live stream, and Keith simply opened the box to all his secrets. He’s getting sloppy. Maybe he should get a lock for his toys. Would it be too obvious that he is hiding something though if his mom saw it? What if she snoops through his stuff anyway, regardless of suspicions? He’d better get a lock, he decides. 

Keith shifts to his back, stretching out his body to its full length.

“Are you awake?” Lance whispers. He doesn’t see it, but he can _feel_ Keith rolling his eyes.

“_No_.”

There’s an uncomfortable stretch of silence.

“Why do you have so many?” Keith eventually asks. “I mean, you live your life, but why- how do you have so many?”

“So many what?”

The light of the moon shining through the lone window reflects off Keith’s crossed arms.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Keith whines. “Don’t make me say it.”

Lance doesn’t know how to answer; he doesn’t know if he should.

“That’s not…” Lance trails off. “I don’t have to tell you, y’ know.” He thinks he sees Keith bury his face again. 

“I’m sorry I asked. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Lance considers confiding in Keith for a second— it would be nice to share the burden of a secret with someone— but the words catch in his throat, and he feels sick. He feels guilty. But why? He doesn’t have a problem being a cam boy, but for some reason the thought of _Keith_ knowing what he does makes him feel like he’s doing something wrong. 

“Are you gay?” Keith blurts.

Lance opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say. Why would Keith accuse him of something like _that_? Wait, accuse him? What is Lance thinking? It’s not a bad thing to be gay, even if it’s not a good thing. Lance isn’t gay. He likes boys, sure, but he likes girls too— probably more than boys. He’s more into boys liking _him_ than he is boys themselves. 

“Um, no,” Lance laughs. It’s not technically a lie since he’s not exclusive to gentlemen, but a condescending note comes out in his tone. “I like gay people, though,” he adds to console this. 

“It really doesn’t sound like you do.” Keith sounds far away. “I shouldn’t be surprised since Marco is your brother.”

“What does that mean?” Lance feels offended that Keith would equate him to Marco like that.

Keith turns onto his side to look at Lance— or look in his direction, at least. “You don’t know?” he asks. “Marco _hates_ anything that’s not one-hundred percent straight.”

Lance’s mouth goes kind of dry. As far as he can tell, everyone in his family— except Veronica— isn’t particularly fond of the LGBT community. If any of them knew he wore frilly underwear and played with himself for an audience, they would never treat him the same. 

“I truly don’t hate gay people,” Lance huffs. “And I am nothing like Marco, okay?”

“Okay.”

Keith shifts onto his back again.

Lance closes his eyes. “What about you?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you gay?” 

“I’m....well...um. I think so, yeah.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah?”

Lance feels weird being in bed with a boy who likes boys, but he thinks about it for a second and finds it doesn’t matter: it’s the same Keith, after all. Unfortunately, the best response he can come up with is, “Cool.” And then, only God knows why, he asks, “Do you want some of my dildos or something?”

Keith falls off the bed and freezes on the ground. Then he laughs. “Sorry, I _really_ misheard you just now.” He stays on the floor but rests his arms on the bed.

“They’re clean,” Lance points out (Why is he trying to sell his sex toys to Keith?!), “and I’m not using all of them. Seriously, you can take a few if you want.”

Keith buries his face in the sheets, muttering “This is not happening,” over and over again. 

“Keith,” Lance giggles. He reaches in the dark, and his hand lands on Keith’s head. “I’m kidding,” he lies. “I’ll buy you your own.” 

The distressed gay lifts his head, but Lance doesn’t remove his hand, instead weaving his fingers into Keith's hair. 

“It’s so _soft_,” Lance comments, combing through the long black locks above Keith’s neck.

“What?”

“I said mullet!” Lance pulls the hair, jerking Keith backward. 

“Ouch!”

“You have a mullet! That’s why your hair is so stupid! I knew there was something wrong with it!”

“Calm down,” Keith mutters. Finally crawling back into the bed. “Go to sleep already, will you?” 

When Lance wakes up, he is in the middle of his bed, and Keith is nuzzled into his side. He realizes his hand is in his hair, absently massaging his soft scalp. It’s a peaceful moment. Lance tries to imagine he’s waking up after sex and cuddling with a lover, but this moment with Keith is fine how it is. He’s glad something closed the space between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sets up some stuff; sorry if it drags :( 🐱🚀


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: (brief) mention of suicide

It’s a chilly day, so they walk quickly to the little cafe, and they barely manage to get there before it starts raining. Hunk sits by the window, and Lance leans on him, checking his emails while Pidge orders drinks for them. 

Keith didn’t come with them. 

Ever since their sleepover, Lance hasn’t seen a whole lot of him. He always felt like Keith was avoiding him, but just with his eyes, like a nervous tick. Now Lance feels his absence everywhere; even in the classes they share, Keith doesn’t rise to Lance’s taunts as he did before. Lance thought that night made them closer— Keith did come out to him after all— but maybe he misread something.

An email from his live streaming website administrators takes his attention:  
Congratulations _Lover Boy<3_ ! Your archived video, “Valentine’s Day Special ;)”, is on the top ten list for views this week! As a reward, choose one of the following perks:  
`FREE advertisement of your page!`  
or  
`FREE worker’s insurance!*`  
or  
`FREE subscription to _Adult Toyz R Us_ !`  
Please note that these benefits are only available while your video is on a top ten list. Click to let us know what you choose!  
*item may require additional personal information

He grins, selecting free advertising and entering his password. It’s probably not that big of a deal getting to the top ten— how many people even use his site?— but he feels proud. 

“Are you texting Keith?” Pidge asks, setting cups of coffee and tea on their table. “If he sent you a meme, I wanna see it.” 

Lance puts down his phone and sighs. “No. I haven’t heard anything from him in like a week.”

Pidge and Hunk share a look.

“It’s not my fault!” Lance huffs. “At least… I don’t think it is.”

“You should talk to him,” Hunk suggests earnestly. 

Lance raises a brow. “Why me? He likes you better.”

“Not true,” Pidge shakes her head. “Have you not noticed he only talks to you? Even when we’re all together.” She takes a drink to dilute what she’s about to say. “If he’s not talking to you, then…. What if he’s- y’know?” She takes another drink, swallows hard, and sets down her cup. “Just talk to him, alright?”

Lance’s stomach sinks as her meaning settles in. “I’ll talk to him, yeah.” He laughs to try to ease the tension, but it makes him look more insensitive than anything. “_Geez_, Pidge, it’s not like he would _kill_ himself.”

But how would Lance know? He seems to be oblivious to everything when it comes to Keith: he didn’t know that he’s an orphan, that he’s gay, that he mostly talks to Lance. What if he _would_ kill himself?

“I-I’ll talk to him in class.”

Except Keith isn’t in class. 

Was he here earlier today? Lance can’t remember since he’s been ignoring him. He can’t think about anything else for the whole rest of the day. He tries calling and texting but gets nothing; he can’t sleep all night, waiting to see if Keith will text back. 

The next day, he’s still not in class. Lance thinks about calling the cops and reporting him missing when he bumps into him outside the counselor’s office.

“Oh, my god!” Lance exclaims, hugging his friend as if he might disappear at any moment. “Keith, where have you been? Are you okay? Why were you in the counselor’s office? Is something wrong?”

Keith laughs and unlatches Lance’s arms from around him. “I was only gone for a day, Lance. Calm down.”

Lance is glad to see him smile, but he is also mad now that Keith never texted him back. “It was more like two days, Keith, with no word, no warning. I was worried.”

Keith grins. “You were worried about me?” Then something sours his smile, and he turns slightly away. “I was taking my driver’s test, and I forgot to turn my phone back on after. And just now in the office, I was getting a parking pass.” He sighs heavily. “I saw your messages this morning, but I didn’t want to text you back. Sorry.”

“What?” It’s a weird thing to admit, but Lance was a little thrilled when Pidge said Lance was Keith’s favorite. Now he doesn’t even want to answer him? “So you really have been ignoring me…” he droops. “Why? Did I do something wrong?” Maybe offering his dildos was too far for Keith.

“N-no,” Keith stutters. “I’m just trying to cut myself off, y’know?”

“From what? From me?” Lance looks up into Keith’s eyes now wet with tears. “What’s wrong?”

Keith’s attempt to smile is pitiful. “Nothing’s wrong,” he laughs, except that fails too, and he starts crying for real.

Lance sits down with him on a bench in the hallway, and Keith cries onto Lance’s leg, trying to hide his face from the kids leaving school. Marco is not going to wait for this, but Lance can’t make himself care about that right now. He runs his hands through Keith’s stupid, silky mullet and periodically asks “What’s wrong?” or “What can I do to help?”

“You can’t help it,” Keith mutters soberly. “It’s because of you, but it’s not your fault.”

That makes Lance feel worse. “What is it? How can I help it if I don’t know what it is?”

Keith grabs Lance’s hand where it rests on his head and holds it there. Then he lets go and shakes his head. “It’s stupid.” His body shakes with another wave of suppressed tears. “God, I’m so fucking _stupid_. I hate myself. I hate _you_.”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah. Woah. Keith.” Lance pulls the boy up to look at him. “One, you’re not allowed to hate yourself. Two, I thought you could never hate me.”

Keith nods, “Which is why I hate you.” He buries his face in his hands. “It’s really not fair,” he whines, but at least he’s trying to wipe his tears now. “Why are your legs so smooth?" he sniffs. 

Lance hesitates to answer, but it's only for a second! "Swim! I'm on the swim team! We have to shave for water resistance."

"But it's the offseason," Keith pouts. "Is that the only reason you shave?" The poor boy sounds almost hopeful for another answer.

Lance can only shrug. "Um, hygiene? You know I'm way into skincare."

"Don't remind me!" Keith wails, burying his face in Lance's shoulder this time.

Lance wraps tentative arms around Keith, his fingers entwining themselves in Keith's hair. 

They stay like that until Keith's breathing finally steadies, and he mumbles, "I can’t believe I just fucking cried on you.”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Lance says as he obtains the first tissue from the pocket pack his mom makes him carry and hands it to Keith. “We all need a good cry sometimes.”

Keith dries his face and blows his nose. “By helping, you’re not helping,” he growls.

Lance takes his anger as a good sign, even if that anger is directed at him. 

“Thanks, though,” Keith mumbles. He stands and puts his bag on. “It’s not that bad; it just feels like it is, y’know? I’ll get over it; I just don’t want to.”

Lance claps him on the shoulder. “I understand. Hormones and all that. But listen…” He moves so Keith is forced to look at him. “I’m here for you if you need anything. Pidge and Hunk, too. Seriously, dude, whatever you’re going through, you’re not in it alone.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Shit like this is why I can’t hate you… which makes me hate you.” He pushes Lance. “Asshole.”

Lance scoffs, and then he laughs, pushing Keith back. 

They walk together out of the school, and Lance notices a text from Rachel saying she and Marco went home without him. Typical.

“Hey, Keith?” Lance asks. “You said you just took your drivers test…. You wanna give me a ride?”

Keith blushes but nods. “It’s a motorcycle, though.” He leads Lance to a red bike in the middle of the now-empty parking lot. “Is this okay?”

Lance grins. “Keith, my man, where the hell did you get this thing?”

Keith kicks at the asphalt as he confesses, “I’ve been putting my lunch money into savings instead of spending it on food. I think I’ll have to keep using lunch money for gas and stuff, but hopefully, it’ll be enough until I can get a job-“

“Nooo, Keith, don’t get a job. You don’t need that stress on top of studying for the GG PEE!”

“Why not?” Keith raises his eyebrow. “Don’t you have a job?” 

Fuck. Lance forgot about that. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“It’s just...a different kind of job.” Lance desperately searches his brain for something to change the subject, and then he gasps. “What if you drove me around, and then I pay you for gas, and _that’s_ your job?!”

Keith grimaces. “I can’t take your money, Lance.”

“I’m not just giving it to you! I’d be paying you for service! Come on, Keithy.”

“Fine, but you’d better give me reasonable hours.” He plops a helmet on Lance’s head, earning a look from the other. “We need to protect precious cargo,” he explains. 

“What do you mean by ‘reasonable hours?” Lance asks.

“Like, you can’t pay me for a ten-minute ride home. But...we could go for a ride if you wanted to.”

“Yeah!” Lance giggles, getting on the bike how Keith shows him. He starts the ride with his hands on Keith’s hips, but he feels like he’s going to fall off like that, so he wraps his noodle arms around Keith’s torso, essentially hugging him from behind. Lance has never been on a motorcycle before, but he’s having a lot of fun, laughing gleefully like a little child on a rollercoaster. 

When it starts to rain, they stop at a park and take shelter under a pavilion. It’s nice. _Really_ nice. As in Lance wants to hold Keith’s hand and stay out here with him until it’s night and kiss him under the stars kind of nice. 

When it stops raining, however, they head back to town, and Keith drops Lance at his house. 

“Hey, man,” Lance starts, but he can’t figure out what he’s thinking enough to convert it into words, so he says, “Thanks.” 

They hug, and Keith leaves.

“You won’t _believe_ what happened today,” Lance coos to his camera. Before filming, he blocked his vents and the space under his door with blankets so no one will hear him. “It wasn’t explicitly a date, but it _felt_ like a date.” He runs his hands over his body for emphasis as he explains how he was pressed up against Keith on the motorcycle.

He opens his legs to recreate the scene more sensually, but his knees snap together and he’s caught in a fit of giggles. 

“I can’t believe I’m thinking about him like _that_.” 

Lance covers his face, blushing, giggling, and kicking his legs. 

“I think I have a crush!”

The comments are pretty mixed about this, some being all for Lance having relationships outside of the show, others jealous he exists at all outside of their views. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Lance admits. “I act like a slut, but can’t even hold hands with the guy.”

Everyone in the comments is on board with this secret innocent side, at least.

As Lance continues the live stream, he keeps imagining Keith doing things to him, and this makes him giddy and embarrassed. 

“I’ve never done this thinking about a real person before.” Lance bites his lip. “God, is it obvious I’m a virgin?” 

Then he is subjected to another fit of giggles as he thinks about Keith taking his virginity. 

When Lance fucks himself per viewer request, his body responds differently than usual: he feels hot but all over instead of just between his legs; his face glows with embarrassment, but he embraces it; and when he cums, it feels deeper somehow— like every nerve in his body is contributing to the orgasm. He almost shouts Keith’s name!

Then it’s over. He says goodnight, cleans up his mess, and goes to bed— but instead of sleeping on his back like usual, he moves a pillow to cuddle into his side, and holds it against his shoulder, imagining a stupid, silky mullet between his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is another explicit livestream if you're worried there's too much story


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> f u c k i n g m a c h i n e

To: me  
From: Prince Lotor (Prince.of.Planet.Doom)  
No Subject  
The suggestions on your page for fucking machines are an absolute mess, so I went ahead and bought one for you. I use this model for my own show, and I can affirm its quality. It’s rather expensive but a gift to you nonetheless. I ask that you allow me to coach you when you use it, and that would make all $3000 worth it, but, of course, that is your choice.

Please email me back if you wish to set up a correspondence. 

To: Prince Lotor (Prince.of.Planet.Doom)  
From: me  
Re: No Subject  
Thank so much for the gift! I would love some instruction, but I plan to use the machine for the first time on camera. I know how to have a separate chat open during a live stream, but do you know if there’s a way my other viewers could see what you are saying?

Thank you again for the gift <3

To: me  
From: Prince Lotor (Prince.of.Planet.Doom)  
Re: No Subject  
Of course. I will send you the instructions for the live-chat shortly.

Lance’s body burns with anticipation. How long has he wanted a fucking machine? Since he started watching porn in seventh grade? Okay, not explicitly back then. It took him a long time to realize he wants to be on the receiving end. 

He asks Keith to take him to the post office where he has a private P.O. Box that he got specifically for toy deliveries. 

“You know there’s no secret storage compartment on this thing, right?” Keith asks when Lance lugs out the rather large box. 

Lance looks down at the motorcycle and purses his lips. “Your satchel bags were bigger in my head.”

Keith sighs, digging through one of the said satchel bags. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” 

Lance would normally take offense to this, but he can’t process much past the fact that Keith just said he was pretty. He helps strap the box to the backseat kind of thing, and his and Keith’s hands brush against each other. Lance smiles. Does he usually smile this much around Keith? He laughs to cover it up, but it comes out as a nervous giggle. Fuck. He looks away to try to get a hold of himself, forcing the laugh into a guffaw. 

“Uhh… Are you okay?” Keith asks. 

“What? Yes!” Lance wipes his tears on his sleeves. “I’m just havin’ a good time!”

Keith laughs, shaking his head. “You’re a fucking dork.”

Lance blushes, flattered. 

On the way to his house, he has to ride closer to Keith than usual because of the box, and his heart hardly stays in his chest. He wonders if Keith suspects what is strapped to his bike; then he would be just as flustered as Lance! 

Keith offers to carry the box to Lance’s room, but Lance has had way too many dreams about such a situation to allow it with his mamá home, so he pays Keith and sends him away.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow, mullet.”

Then Lance takes the box to his room and showers and dresses before he even looks into it because he knows he won’t be able to stop himself from playing with the machine once it’s out. He wears sheer stockings and his favorite blue garters with the kitties on the buckles, and he slips on a thong to keep his bits in place while he works and a short, silk robe over top for a little element of surprise.

He opens the chat with Prince Lotor— who seems just as excited as Lance— and they decide to live stream the unboxing and setup. It’s different having someone to talk to directly, but Lance likes it; it feels more real that people are watching him. God, what if Keith is watching him right now?!

He buries his face in the instruction manual to hide his blush. 

“Sorry!” Lance says, peeking out from behind the paper. “I’ve been unusually giddy today.” He lowers the page and shakes his head of remaining distractions.

He needs to focus on setting up his fucking machine anyway. Lotor guides him through it, and a few viewers pop in and out of the comment section to share their anticipation. 

Finally, the set up is complete, and the machine is sized to Lance. He considers running down to the bathroom to wash the attachable dildo, but it’s too risky; he decides to clean it thoroughly with the sex toy cleaner he hides in his room. His alarm for ten goes off, signaling that it’s time to start the actual show. His hands shake in anticipation as he kneels on his bed in front of his camera.

“Hey, guys! Welcome if you’re just now joining us. As you can see, the fucking machine is here! A very gracious donation from fellow live-streamer, Prince.of.Planet.Doom, who is also guiding today’s video! He really knows what he’s doing, too; I was researching him earlier, and wow! He- just wow.” 

Lance feels himself blush at the memory of watching gay BDSM for the first time. He is horny pretty much all the time, but he’s never been so _hot_ as when he was watching boys like him getting so utterly destroyed.

“Anyway! I’ll archive this video, so be sure to save the link and share it!”

At Prince’s command, Lance runs a hand over his body, letting his bare chest peak through the now loose silk robe. He goes down low enough to just brush the tops of his thighs with his fingertips and comes back up to untie the robe with a single finger. As it slips off his shoulders, the first wave of donations rolls in. 

“Thank you!” Lance grins. He crawls to the edge of his bed, letting the robe drip to the floor. When he comes back into view, he has a bottle of strawberry-scented lube. Even though his viewers can’t smell it, they go absolutely nuts at how cute their little lover boy is for having it. He makes a slimy mess of his thong before slinging it off where it splats against his door. He winces internally at the mess but does his best to keep face for the show. 

Lance lies back on some pillows and spreads his legs wide, being careful to follow Prince Lotor’s instructions precisely. He’s scared to get in trouble if he does something wrong, but the idea also excites him. He pumps his cock with one hand and fingers himself with the other to prep his asshole. 

He imagines everything he’s going to do on the machine next to him and cums way too early! 

“Oops!” he giggles, licking a bit of cum off his thumb. “Did I mention how excited I am?”

Lotor makes Lance prop himself up with his legs— like he’s about to crab walk— and gyrate his hips with his fingers still inside him. He’s tired from his first orgasm, but he has to keep up his energy for the machine! He lets himself moan out loud, hoping the towels he used to block the door and vent keep the sound from Marco’s room below. His legs are shaking with the effort to keep himself up before Prince Lotor finally tells him to take a break. 

He drinks some water, and the comment section is active even now, listing other things Lance could probably gulp down. 

`**Prince.of.Planet.Doom:** Now get on the bed and face away from the machine. Make sure the cuffs are where you want them.`

Lance squeals in excitement as he takes the pair of cuffs Prince surprised him with and loops it over the support beam above his bed. 

“Yes! Let’s do this!” 

He kneels with his back to the machine and penetrates himself with just the tip of the dildo. Then he uses the controller to start it moving slowly and vibrating slightly. He secures one hand to the support beam, and just that small vulnerability makes the air catch in his throat. At Prince Lotor’s command, he gradually turns the knobs on the controller. When it’s as much as he can handle, he secures his other hand to the beam and lets the machine do the work.

It pounds into his prostate when he arches his back just right; he feels like he can’t take another second of this, but he can’t force himself to stop. His dick stands against his stomach, leaving a trail of precum on his hairless belly. He can’t control the moans that fill the room. He imagines someone behind him, shoving their cock into his fragile frame. Lance is putty, but the restraints on his wrists keep him in the proper position.

When he cums again, he cries. It’s not just tears in the corners of his eyes this time; he sobs. He feels like he’s transcended. The most explosive orgasm, possibly of his life, makes his whole body tingle. Only the machine is still going. It’s pumping Lance up to cum again, but he already feels so high. How can this feeling continue?

Lance panics. He can’t take it. He’s already drenched in sweat but somehow getting hotter. He pulls against the cuffs, but Prince tells him to stay exactly where he is until he says. Lance screams only a few minutes later with another orgasm. His whole body is shaking now, but Lotor still doesn’t tell him to get down. 

“I can’t do it!” Lance cries. “I can’t do it!”

`**Prince.of.Planet.Doom:** It’s okay. Let yourself down.`  
**`Prince.of.Planet.Doom:`**` Be careful.`

Lance frees himself of the bindings and turns the knobs on the controller, but he screams again.

“Ahh! The wrong way!”

He slides off the machine and turns it off before faceplanting into his sheets to cry and bask in the waves of afterglow. The bed envelopes him like the ocean takes a small boat beneath her surface. He travels along the ocean floor and sees the most beautiful colors of fish and coral reefs. He befriends the ocean, and she allows him to return home. She guides him across her surface to a harbor, where his wooden face knocks gently against the dock. He doesn’t want to leave the ocean, but she nudges him harder.

“Lance,” she says. “Lance!”

Her voice is harsh; it’s urgent.

“LANCE!” 

She pushes him so hard that he crashes into the harbor and splinters.

“LANCE! YOU BETTER NOT BE STILL FUCKING SLEEPING!” Marco shouts as he forces open the door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for homophobic/transphobic language and domestic violence

Lance and Marco stare at each other, unblinking, unbreathing. Lance is aware of too much at once: Marco sees Lance naked, the garters with the kitty faces, the fucking machine, the fucking machine’s dirty attachment, the webcam; the webcam is still on; Lance is still live; a few viewers remain and send “good morning” comments and donations.

“What-“

“Get out,” Lance hisses. Then he yells, “Get _out_!”

Marco grunts in disgust and slams the door closed. 

Lance is too panicked to react. He turns off his camera and shoves it under his desk with his laptop. Then he tears off his tights and garters and picks up the nasty, slimy thong from the floor and throws them in the toy box, hastily closing and locking it. He throws his used single-use sheets over the fucking machine, dresses in the first clothes he grabs, and runs downstairs.

His mamá looks him up and down with disapproving eyes over a fresh cup of tea. Her face contorts from confusion to anger to mild annoyance. 

“Did Marco really leave without you?” she asks accusingly.

“I-“ Did Marco not say anything to her? “I’m walking today.”

“You’re going to be late,” she mutters, shaking her head as she walks away. She says something about pajamas at school and kids these days, but Lance doesn’t quite catch it.

He fumbles for the door, feeling like he’s escaping a distracted beast, and stumbles out. His legs shake with every step, and pain shoots through his lower back. He always showers with warm water after a show to prevent soreness, but he fell asleep last night! How could he be so careless? His life is over. How could he let Marco see him? Of all the people who could have walked in, Marco is by far the worst!

Lance is so distracted that he walks to where he usually meets up with his friends before he finally makes it to his first hour.

“Lance,” Mr. Northman says, begrudgingly pausing his lecture. “When you are forty minutes late to my class, you come in quickly and quietly, give me your pass, and sit down. Well?”

Lance realizes he doesn’t have his backpack or phone, let alone a tardy slip. “I- I’ll go get one.”

As he turns around, the other kids comment on his disheveled appearance. 

“Damn, Lance looks like shit.”

“I’ve never seen his hair so greasy.”

“Is he wearing leggings?”

“He looks like he’s going to throw up.”

Their words follow him down the hall, blocking out the light from behind him, from his peripheral vision, wrapping around him like tendrils until they envelop him, and he succumbs to darkness.

When he sees again, he is sitting on the floor, propped against the wall, drinking water from a red Hydroflask. 

Keith is kneeling next to him, checking his forehead and stuff.

“I have no idea how to tell if you’re okay or not,” Keith worries. “Should I get the nurse or something? Do you want me to call your mom?”

Lance finishes the water and shakes his head. 

“No! God no, it’s fine. I just, uh… woke up late, y’know? I didn’t have time to eat or anything, heh. I’m fine.” He convinces Keith to let him go back to class, but for the rest of the day, Lance can’t stop thinking about what might be happening at home. He can’t remember whether his parents work today and who will be home, but he prays that no one venture to his attic bedroom. And maybe Marco won’t tell anybody what he saw? Not for Lance’s sake, of course, but for his reputation. He didn’t tell Mamá anything this morning after all. Lance worries Marco will treat him differently, but how much worse can he get?

Lance convinces himself that everything will be okay (with some help from Hunk, who gives him extra food after hearing that Lance fainted). He even waits outside the west exit for Marco and Rachel after school, like usual. Marco doesn’t acknowledge Lance, but that’s not so strange. When Lance tries to follow them to the car, however, Marco turns around and pushes Lance as hard as he can into the brick wall.

“Stay the _fuck_ away from me,” he spits. “Fucking _faggot_!”

Everyone around them is staring, having sensed a potential fight. 

Lance doesn’t know what to do. Why does he feel so hurt by his brother’s rejection of him? 

“But,” he tries, standing up, “Keith already left! I need a ride.”

Marco ignores him, and Rachel hesitates for only a second before she gets in the car too.

Lance knows they’ll get home before him, but he runs for as long as he can anyway because he doesn’t want them to have ample time to root through his stuff. He’s in good shape, but he’s still exhausted from cumming three times last night, so his pace is slower than he wants it to be. 

He is in desperate need of a shower when he finally arrives home, but he forgets about his stench when he sees his mom’s car in the driveway. When he goes inside, Rachel is on the couch, staring intently at her phone and making the defensive face she does when she gets in trouble.

“Mom wants you to talk to her on the back porch,” she says through gritted teeth. 

“O-okay,” Lance squeaks. “I will in a sec.” 

“Mom screamed at me and Rachel because of you,” Marco seethes from the stairs. “You better go and talk to her before I take care of your gay ass myself!”

Lance flinches but tries to hide it. He’s not gay, but he always feels like he’s caught doing evil anytime he hears the word. He steels himself on the way outside.

Mamá sits by the unlit metal fire pit with her back to him. 

He stays by the door, hoping to convey an air of nonchalance. “You, uh, did you need something, Mom?”

She wipes her eyes and folds her hands in her lap. “Sit down,” she commands. Her voice is stern yet weak from crying.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, edging closer. “Um, if Marco said something, y’know, he’s always a dick, so-”

“Lance Charles McClain, sit your ass down and shut up.” 

Lance gulps and sits.

Mamá turns to face him, but she keeps her eyes down. “How long have you known?” she prompts.

“About what?”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone- Why didn’t you tell _me_ about your sickness?” 

Lance feels the color drain from his face. “I- I’m not sick,” he stammers. “What are you-”

“You _fainted_ today, Lance. Keith sent me a text! You fainted! Don’t try and tell me you’re not sick!” She furiously strikes a match and throws it into the pit, which catches fire quickly and emits a strange smell. 

Lance looks down in horror to see his entire lingerie collection fueling the flames, the cheap and expensive materials alike burning to nothing. Without thinking, he tries to salvage something of the four-figure fodder, plunging his hands into the fire. He jerks his hands away first because they’re already blistering, and second because his mother shoves him backward.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she shrieks. “Are you so far gone that you’d die to save those _disgusting_-”

“You can’t just burn my stuff!” 

Anger lines her face and rage burns in her eyes. “You mean _my_ stuff? Do you think I wanted to burn that antique chest that’s been in _my_ family for generations? The last thing my mother gave to me before she _died_! All because you defiled it with that- with those-”

Lance stops breathing when he realizes she’s talking about the toy box. “What happened to the inside?” 

Mamá throws up her hands. “I threw it all away, of course! I can’t believe I let you have your own room. Oh, Lance,” she softens slightly. Her shoulders slump. “You’re sick. I know it’s not your fault but… Believe me, baby, I hate your sickness, not you, but-”

“I’m not sick,” he repeats. “I can’t believe you- My stuff! I’m almost an adult, Mamá. You need to respect my privacy!”

“But I can’t trust you! I gave you privacy; I gave you your own room. And you- you had those things! They were just near you all of the time, poisoning your thoughts! Your air!” She takes a breath. “And then you were poisoning everything- every_one_ around you! Marco was right. Marco was right about you.”

Lance stands. “No, Mamá! You’ve got it all wrong! I-"

”And I let you have sleepovers with your niece and nephew while those lacey ropes were in your drawers and those plastic severed dicks were only feet- inches?!- away from my sweet _nietitos_. How could you-!” She gasps sharply. “Lance! You didn’t- You didn’t _touch_ them did-?!”__

_ _“No! Mamá, no!” Lance yells. “I would never do something like-”_ _

_ _“THEN WHY DO YOU HAVE THEM?!” she barks. “WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY-”_ _

_ _“THEY’RE FOR ME!” Lance shouts. “I-I use them on me!”_ _

_ _“Wh-”_ _

_ _“I like how I look in frilly underwear! And I like the feeling of...things inside of me….” Lance lowers his head in embarrassment. This is not at all how he imagined his coming out would go._ _

_ _Lance’s mother gags, and her lips quiver. She stumbles back into the chair, her face and body contorted in disgust. Then she begins to sob. From her cries, Lance perceives grief, revulsion, and hatred— all directed at him._ _

_ _“Mamá,” he wilts. “I- There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just-”_ _

_ _She’s on him in an instant, pulling down his pants and tugging at his underwear._ _

_ _Lance screams first out of surprise, then fear. “What are you-”_ _

_ _She tugs harder, and his thong snaps._ _

_ _Lance screams again, seeing white spots from the pain in his crotch. He wallows helplessly on the ground while his mother hastily flings his panties into the fire with the rest._ _

_ _“Get out of here,” she cries._ _

_ _Before Lance can gather himself to respond, the back door opens._ _

_ _“What the hell is going on here?” Papá demands. “I could hear him screaming before I even got out of the car.”_ _

_ _Lance tries to wipe his eyes with his shoulder— his dad has beaten him before for crying— but he still can’t think of what to say._ _

_ _“Your son thinks he’s a girl!” Mamá laments. “Look at what was in his room! And- and there was more! I got it all out, but he-” _ _

_ _She breaks down again— this time in the arms of her husband. Papá’s face is unreadable as he stares into the flames. _ _

_ _“Lance,” he says coldly, “go to your room.”_ _

_ _Lance winces as he makes himself stand and pull up his pants. “Papá, I-”_ _

_ _“Get _out_ of my _sight_.”_ _

_ _Lance half runs to the door, failing to keep his breathing under control. He feels sick when he realizes that Marco and Rachel probably just heard everything. He doesn’t want them to see him like this, but he can’t quell his oncoming panic attack. When he gets to his room, he begins to shake. _ _

_ _His dresser drawers stand open, all of them sacked, and the toy box is gone, leaving a cold empty space in the room. Not only that, but the fucking machine, his computer, his camera, the single-use sheets, his lubricants and toy cleaners, his cosmetics and toiletries— everything is gone. _ _

_ _He hyperventilates on the floor hoping to pass out soon so he doesn’t have to think anymore. _ _

_ _Strangely, he wishes his parents found out about his live streams because then he would understand their rage. Instead, without knowing anything besides the fact that he masturbates with toys, they act like he has done something horrible. God, he knew they were homophobic, but he always thought they would change their minds for one of their own children. _ _

_ _Do they even see him as one of theirs anymore? Or does their hate of whatever they think he is outweigh their love of him?_ _

_ _Lance is having enough trouble breathing before Marco comes in and straddles him on the floor. _ _

_ _“Shut the hell up!” Marco screams. He punches Lance over and over again, harder and harder, causing the younger to cry out louder and louder. “Nobody cares about a disgusting piece of shit like you!”_ _

_ _Lance can’t defend himself against Marco when he has his mind, let alone now when he can’t even form the words to tell his brother to stop. _ _

_ _Lance struggles as much as he can as Marco drags him onto the bed. He screams for help, but no one comes. Marco socks him in the jaw to shut his mouth and forces duct tape over his lips to keep it shut. _ _

_ _Lance scratches at the tape, but Marco pins Lance’s blistered hands against the headboard and tapes those down too. Desperately, Lance writhes and thrashes. He manages to land a kick on Marco, but it does nothing to hinder his brother from beating him down until Lance can’t move at all. _ _

_ _Marco then gets up and grabs Lance’s ankles and stretches him across the bed, taping his feet to the footboard. _ _

_ _Lance whimpers helplessly as Marco— now eerily calm— reinforces the duct tape so that even a third party would have a hard time getting it off. _ _

_ _“You did this to yourself,” Marco says darkly, covering Lance with a blanket and shutting the door._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's been a while! It was really hard to write the scene with Lance and his mom without going too far...and even then, I might have crossed a few lines. There are only a few sad chapters in this fic (including the next one, but it's not as bad), but I can't write a story without some horrible misfortune. This is still my most lighthearted fic, lol.
> 
> My goal is a new chapter before valentines day (but the next one isn't sex, sorry);


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets hurt :(  
And Lance gets comfort :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has nothing sexy, sorry ;-;  
It's all family and feelings and stuff

Lance focuses on breathing. It’s difficult since his chest hurts every time he inhales, but what’s worse is that he can only breathe through his nose, and the snot from crying threatens to suffocate him. He tries to calm down. Surely, Marco will let him go soon.

Lance is beyond uncomfortable. He’s in so much pain, physical and emotional; it’s too hot under the blanket that he can’t shift off of himself; he’s hungry and thirsty; he has to go to the bathroom; his body odor is putrid and leaves a stale, rotten taste in his sealed mouth. 

He falls asleep a few times, dreaming of burning with his underwear and sex toys while everyone in his family stares down with varying shades of anger and disappointment. 

With the blanket over his head, Lance can’t tell whether it’s night or day, but he is sure he missed dinner. How long has he been here? He feels sick. He wants his mamá to bring him food and comfort as she did when he was a bedridden child. He aches for her momentarily before his mind returns to his physical condition.

Maybe it’s a few hours, maybe it’s a few minutes before Lance pees himself. The liquid seeps quickly through his pants and onto the bed, making him feel even warmer and smell even worse. He cries tears of embarrassment and tries futilely to shift his body out of the puddle.

After a few more hours (he assumes it’s been a while), he finally hears someone coming up to the attic.

“Lance, baby?” his mother calls tentatively, pushing into the room.

Alarmed and excited, Lance tries to cry for help, but with the tape over his mouth, he sounds like a deranged and wounded creature. He probably looks like one too at this point, under the blanket.

Mamá grunts, repulsed. “Fine then,” she spits. “I’ll wait until you’re done throwing a fucking tantrum.” She slams the door but opens it slightly to add, “You can rot in this stench if you want to keep acting like that.”

Lance can barely process his missed opportunity to escape. He panics, opting to scream and thrash as loud and hard as he can. He’s desperate. Surely she doesn’t mean to let him literally rot, but he can’t stand this anymore. He screams at the top of his lungs for her— for _anybody_— to save him. 

His hope wanes with his voice, eventually giving out completely. Lance lays his head back in defeat and cries himself again to sleep. 

The discomfort of his stiff position, the swelling bruises left by Marco, the fresh scent of urine that comes when he pees himself again, a throat sored by dehydration and overuse, gnawing hunger that twists his stomach so much that he feels like he’s going to vomit. How much longer does he have to endure this? Days? Weeks? 

There’s eventually another knock at the door, but Lance’s head hurts too much for him to acknowledge it.

“I’m coming in- Holy fuck! It smells like shit!” Veronica exclaims. “Did you die up here?!” When Lance doesn’t stir, she comes closer, poking warily at the sheets. “Lance?”

Lance can’t do anything but emit a pitiful wheeze as air struggles through his scratched throat.

“I’m moving this blanket,” Veronica says. “Stop me if you’re naked or something.”

As soon as she sees her little brother taped to the bed, fury and horror light her eyes. She rips the tape off his mouth but struggles with the tape on his wrists and ankles.

“Hold on. I’ll be back with scissors.”

Lance blinks at his empty room as he adjusts to the light. Then his eyes fix on the half-full water bottle by his bed. It’s so close, and he stares at it longingly until Veronica comes back to free his limbs. The first thing he does is down the bottle when he can use his arms again, but it’s not enough. He tries to get up for more water, but his legs give out after only a few steps, and he falls.

Veronica goes to him on the floor.

“What happened, Lance?! How long have you been up here?”

Lance tries to answer, “Since Friday,” but a hissing sound comes out where his voice should be.

Veronica seems to understand him, however, because she blanches.

“Oh, god. It’s _Sunday_. L-let’s start by getting you through the shower. Here.” She crouches so Lance can climb onto her back, and carefully, she carries him to the bathroom on the second floor. “I’ll get you some more water to drink. And clothes. Do you need help in the bath?”

Lance shakes his head. Once she’s gone, he peels off his pee soaked clothes and crawls into the shower. His shoulders hurt like hell, but it feels good to sit under the water and let the warm drops relax his tense joints and muscles. He lets himself cry again, some tears of relief but mostly fear. How is he supposed to move forward from this? He is used to Marco beating him beyond reason, but Mamá always used to step in before it got out of hand. Lance keeps trying to tell himself that Mamá didn’t know what Marco was doing, except that even the neighbors could probably hear him scream. He can’t help but wonder… Was she so disgusted with him that she left him to Marco on purpose? 

Lance’s stomach churns with guilt, but thankfully, Veronica knocks on the door with the promised items and distracts him from his thoughts.

After finishing scrubbing the sweat and piss from his body (at least he still has his scented soaps), he feels refreshed yet fatigued. He switches to cold water to wake himself up and pop the burn blisters on his hands. 

Veronica comes in when he is dressed (in what was left of Lance’s wardrobe after Mamá’s purge), and she scolds him for touching the blisters at all. She goes on talking as she cleans and wraps his hands, but Lance is more concerned with his reflection; more specifically, the huge bruise on the bottom side of his face. Most of the bruises on his body are covered by his clothes— and the bandages make him look like an action anime protagonist— but even if Lance still had his makeup, there is no way he could hide the lump that distorts his beautiful face. 

He can’t go in public like this!

Veronica seems to notice his panic, and she steers him away from the mirror and down the stairs, telling him that they’ll leave soon.

Lance drinks more water while he waits, worried that Marco is going to bust in at any moment and drag Lance right back upstairs. The sound of his sister spitting angrily in rapid-fire Spanish the next room over, however, takes his attention. He doesn’t understand what they’re saying (Only Luis and Veronica were raised bilingual), though he can catch a few words and phrases like _water_ and _three days_. 

Mamá is crying, clearly floundering for a response, an excuse. He sympathizes with her before he remembers that the last time he was like this, he was at her mercy. A tiny little vindictive voice in his head tells him that she deserves this. Lance even considers joining his sister, but these thoughts only make him feel worse.

“Mamá, what would you do if he _died_?” Veronica asks, switching to English in a moment of vulnerability. “This isn’t-” 

They stop suddenly when Lance opens the door. He can’t look Mamá in the face right now, but he knows deep down that she’s just hurt and confused and that she needs time. 

“Let’s just go,” he whispers to Veronica, tugging at her sleeve. “It’s not her fault.”

Veronica softens toward Lance, but she is still clearly upset. 

“How is it not her fault?” she nearly scoffs. “Even if she got Dad to do the dirty work-”

“No!” Lance fails to shout. He tightens his grip on his sister before revealing, “It was Marco.”

Veronica and Mamá both seem surprised by this for some reason, and they hesitate to react. Mamá puts her hands over her face and starts sobbing again, kneeling on the floor for stability. Lance wants to comfort her; he wants to scream at her too. Instead, he clenches his fists and marches through the house, straight to Veronica’s car. 

Ronni joins him in the front seat a few minutes later. 

Lance braces for her questions about what happened on Friday, but she only asks where he wants to eat. Her tone says that he’ll have to explain everything to her soon, but Lance is glad for the delay. After a late lunch (Holy shit, Lance was trying to ignore his hunger, but the second he had food in front of him, it was gone.), they go to Veronica’s apartment. It’s a good size for two students living on the Galaxy Garrison campus, and Lance wonders briefly why she doesn’t have more than one roommate to share the cost.

“You can stay here for as long as you need to,” Veronica says, leading Lance to her room. “I’ll crash with Acxa in the other room.” She makes a face. “Unless you want me to sleep with you?”

Veronica used to let Lance crawl in bed with her when he had nightmares or if Marco wouldn’t leave him alone at night, but back then, Lance was always undeniably the victim. Now, though? Would Veronica still protect him if she knew what he does? What he is? He always assumed she would be accepting, but he thought the same about Mamá until he was so painfully proven wrong.

“Who the fuck is this?” asks a scowling woman from the doorway, her sapphire hair pulled back in a ponytail. “What happened to ‘_No boys in the apartment_,’ McClain?”

Lance panics because the stranger knows his name before he remembers that his sister is also called “McClain”.

“This is my little brother, Acxa!” Veronica says brightly. “Come meet him! Well, maybe meet him later. I told him he could stay-”

“Why?” Acxa’s eyes bore into Lance, and he gets the idea that she one-hundred percent does not want him here.

“He needs help right now,” Veronica explains. “You know... trouble at home.”

Acxa’s face changes like she _does_ know, especially when her eyes find the bruise on his jaw. “Fine,” she grunts, walking away.

Veronica sighs with a smile. “She puts up a tough front, but she’ll do you no harm.”

Lance nods. Then he swallows. _Trouble at home?_ The phrase doesn’t sit well with him. Is he a “troubled kid” now? He doesn’t want people to pity him, but-

“Hey,” she says. 

Lance looks up.

Veronica scans his features, assessing his state, and takes on a more serious tone. “You need to tell me what happened.”

She hands him a pencil and pad of paper, and Lance’s gut clenches with his decision to be vulnerable. He is going to reveal his sexuality to her. If she rejects him as Mamá did? Well, then Lance will accept it. He’ll believe that he’s sick, and he will do what he can to get better.

He starts his explanation in shaky handwriting with Marco walking in on him with “a toy”. He details everything that happened after that: Marco refusing to drive him home from school, Mamá burning all of his stuff, everything Mamá said to him, everything she did to him. He tries not to be biased in his description, but there aren’t many ways to convey “She tore off my underwear and threw it into the fire”. Then he writes about how Papá wouldn’t look at him; how Marco cornered him, beat him, and taped him down; how Mamá was the only one who came to him when he was trapped, and how she immediately left him “to rot”.

Lance adds, “And you know the rest :),” in an attempt to somehow soften the blow, then he drops the pad on his sister’s lap and promptly leaves to go to the bathroom. He genuinely has to pee, but mostly he wants to avoid whatever is in store for him. In fact, he stays in the bathroom until Acxa knocks on the door, and he awkwardly returns to Ronni’s room.

Lance comes warily around the corner, and Veronica greets him teary-eyed and open-armed. Those eyes of pity. So he _is_ wrong. He proceeds slowly into her embrace. At least he knows that she won’t hurt him. She’ll help him get better.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Lance,” she cries into his shoulder. “But it’s going to be okay. You’re okay.” She squeezes him. “But…”

Here it comes.

“You didn’t actually say….” She pulls out of the hug to make eye contact. “_Are_ you gay?”

Before he can say no, Veronica holds up a hand to stop him.

“I want to tell you something first.” She grabs his hands. “Luis is the only one in our family who knows, but I want you to know too…. Um, Acxa is more than my roommate. She is my girlfriend. And not just like she’s my friend that’s a girl. Like, we’re in a relationship. I’m bisexual.”

Lance stares. His breath hitches. Relief. Validity. Belonging. Acceptance. Everything floods out of him in this week’s millionth torrent of tears.

Veronica wraps her arms around her baby brother again as he tries to make word sounds with his sore throat.

“Me too,” he tries to say. “I’ve never said it out loud. I- I was so scared that you wouldn’t-”

She shushes and rocks him gently.

“It’s okay, baby,” she murmurs. “I know. Everything is going to be okay.”

“I’m bi,” he cries.

“I know.” Veronica squeezes him so tightly that it hurts (albeit his whole body hurts whether someone is touching it or not). “I’m so proud of you, Lance.”

They hug and cry for almost an hour, and Lance lets it all out. He feels so good afterward. He is so happy. He forgets about his other problems. All of his stuff is gone, his family seems to hate him, his business is at stake, but Veronica is staying by his side, and that gives him hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'll update in a few weeks!  
*two to three months later*  
Me: :') I'm so sorry, my precious readers. 
> 
> It might be a while before I update again too, because I'm studying for exams, but maybe we'll see each other again in June :')  
I do read comments tho :) so
> 
> Also, sex is happening very soon, so ;) :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I did not proofread this one. Please let me know if something is distractingly wrong, lol*

Lance wakes up alone Monday morning. He finds a note on the bedside table explaining that Veronica went to class, and she’ll be back soon. He is welcome to any food in the kitchen, and he can use any of Veronica’s products in the bathroom. There is also a printout for how to take care of his burns. 

Lance heads to the bathroom to shower and change his bandages, and he manages to find enough products to go through his normal skin routine, but he struggles to decide what to do with the bruise on his face. 

Veronica’s skin tone is slightly cooler than Lance’s, so if he tried to cover it up with foundation, there would still be a discolored patch on his skin. Not to mention, the bump is still making his jaw look weird. He opens a contour palette. Can he mask it with highlights and lowlights?

“Hey.”

Lance nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of a voice. He hurriedly tries to hide the makeup from Acxa before he remembers that he’s safe here. He tries to make the move seem natural by leaning back on the bathroom counter and nodding his head at her.

“‘Sup,” he wheezes.

“Um, here,” Acxa says, holding out two small sacks. “Heat will increase circulation for healing. Then cold will reduce inflammation.” She drops them on the counter. “Also, yellow concealer works best when they’re purple and blue like that.” 

She leaves just as quickly as she came, and Lance utters a scratchy, “Thanks,” to her back. With Acxa’s advice, he manages to hide the bruise well enough that someone wouldn’t notice it if they weren’t looking for it, and by then, Veronica is back. 

“Lookin’ good,” she smiles when she notices his work. “Are you going to wear makeup when you go back to school?”

He nods.

“I’ll let you choose when you’re okay for school— you should at least rest a little bit— but we should get your stuff from the house today because Mom and Dad both work. Do you want to go right now?”

Lance notes the time; Marco should be at school now, but the thought of going back still makes him anxious. 

“Will you go in with me?” Lance asks, his voice cutting in and out despite his efforts to keep it even.

Of course, she agrees, and they head off. 

When they get in the house, Lance doesn’t find his phone or laptop, but he is grounded, so he probably shouldn't take them anyway. He needs to check his email, though, and update his viewers. It’s only been a few days since they last heard from him, but he doesn’t want to lose any fans to his involuntary hiatus… Maybe he should try to access his page at a library or something. But if he is going to be gone for a while, he should at least give them a video explanation, and no way in Hell is he going to even attempt filming in public. _Maybe_ he could film at Veronica’s house if she wasn’t there.

“Lance?” Veronica pokes. “What are you looking for?”

Right, one thing at a time.

“My backpack,” he says, turning and realizing that she is already holding his bag. “A-and wallet.”

His wallet is in the bag.

“Okay, let’s go then,” he hurries past her.

After resting for most of Monday, Lance decides to go back to school Tuesday morning. He feels bad about being gone without a word, but his friends just are glad to see that he is okay.

\--

“I brought you lunch yesterday,” Hunk explains at their table in the library, “but you weren’t here, and then Keith said that your mom said that you were sick, and you weren’t answering your phone, so I didn’t know how sick you were or when you’d be back, so I didn’t bring you anything today. I’m sorry, buddy, But, actually! I’ll give you mine since-”

“It’s okay,” Lance croaks with a smile. “I brought my lunch for once. And sorry I didn’t answer. I’m grounded from my phone and stuff.” 

They all seem taken aback by the state of his voice, low and scratchy instead of high and smooth. It’s getting better, but his current speech has the quality of an AM radio station.

“Also, not sick,” he adds wryly.

Pidge scoffs in disbelief. “If you weren’t sick, then why did you miss test prep and our study session?” There is a slight bitterness to her tone that tells Lance that she missed him; she probably waited for him, but, of course, he never came.

“Sorry. I was tied up at home,” he apologizes. Then he laughs mirthlessly at his expense as he realizes what he said. Then he swallows uncomfortably at the thought of revealing to his friends everything that transpired over the last few days.

“Are you okay though?” Keith asks. “Your mom was texting me, like, all weekend, and she was asking me a bunch of really weird questions and stuff. She made it seem like something was really _really_ wrong.”

Lance only shrugs. “We got into a bad fight. It’s- I’m trying not to think about it. It’s fine.” He forces a smile. “I’m actually way more concerned about my followers! On social media! Can I use one of your phones to check my notifications?”

Keith offers his phone, and Lance spends the rest of lunch reading through the comments from his fucking machine live stream. They ease the turmoil of his thoughts, their attention and affection bringing a genuine smile to his face. His followers thought it was absolutely adorable that he fell asleep after cumming for a third time, and they wished he would archive the video so they could lay with him every night. Kinda creepy but kinda sweet too.

Lance hopes they won’t be too upset by his further absence.

By the end of the week, with Ronni as the middleman for his and Mamá’s arguments, it’s clear that Lance isn’t getting his laptop and webcam back anytime soon (although Veronica_ is_ successful in winning him back his phone rights). He wallows in self-pity, desperate to stream. He was starting to make really good money, but that won’t continue if he can’t produce content. He considers buying new gear, but he doesn’t want to wait for shipping. (Plus, it would be kinda shitty if he went behind his Mamá’s back like that. He already feels guilty for refusing to go back home.) 

Maybe he could use someone else’s streaming equipment? But then what? Is whoever lets him use the stuff supposed to just sit there while Lance gets himself off for the camera?

Wait a tick. That gives him an idea.

“_Keith_,” Lance croons after school that Friday as they walk to Keith’s bike. He’s thankful that his voice is recovered enough that he can whine properly. “Can I come over this weekend?”

“To my...home?”

“Yeah.”

“No.” Keith frowns. “It’s not that I don’t want you to. It’s just that it’s not exactly my place? I- I could go to your house, though, if you um… Is there a reason?”

Lance turns and puts his hands together like he’s praying. “Please let me borrow your filming stuff!”

“What?”

“I _know_ you made Minecraft videos in middle school, Keith! I know the filming stuff is yours too because you made a whole vlog about your equipment. Plus, your cam quality was, like, perfect! I could see every detail of your stupid mullet when you-”

“H-how do you know about that?!” Keith exclaims, hiding his hair behind his hands like he’s been exposed. “I took all of those videos down. How did you find them?!”

“You took them down?!” Lance gasps. “Noooo. I _loved_ your channel! I was _obsessed_ with you in the seventh grade!”

Keith’s blush is redder than his motorcycle. “Oh, my god. So, what are you saying? Are _you_ Lover Boy?”

Lance feels the blood from his face drain to weigh down his stomach. “What?!” he screeches.

“Maybe not then.” Keith scrunches his eyebrows together as he thinks. “I’m pretty sure that was the account name, though. There were only like three people who ever liked or commented, but this one person _always_ did.”

Lance laughs, nervously at first and then harder and harder until tears wet the crinkles of his eyes. “Lover Boy. No, yeah, that was me,” he remembers. His public social media pages all have different variations of his first initial and last name now, but his old accounts were almost all called Lover Boy. Maybe it’s irresponsible to make his secret porn name the same as his Webkinz user, but it was too fitting to pass up. “I can’t believe you remember me!”

Keith glances skeptically to the side. “Did we… Did you _find_ me?” he asks. “Like, there’s no way you just happened to watch my middle school vlogs and then randomly meet me in high school.”

Lance stops. “Keith… I’ve known you since sixth grade.”

Keith stops too, turning with wide eyes. “We- We didn’t meet last year?”

Lance narrows his eyes, unimpressed, until he recalls his infamous glow up after freshman year. Maybe it’s better that Keith doesn’t remember awkward, lanky, peanut-head Lance.

“Just get on the bike, Mullet.”

\--

Lance peers over the couch again to make sure that Keith is actually asleep this time. They were watching movies together in Veronica’s living room, and Lance was hoping to sneak away after a couple of hours, but Keith has more stamina than Lance anticipated, so he ended up having to wait until two in the morning.

Veronica and Acxa are out on their Saturday-night-dinner-and-dancing date, and before she left, Ronni made it clear that they wouldn’t be coming back until Sunday afternoon. (“So you and your little friend can have the apartment to yourselves,” she winked.)

Lance goes back to the room he has been staying in and updates his page on Keith’s laptop.

**Announcements:**  
LoverBoy<3 : “`IMPORTANT! I’m going live in one hour! Trying something new…` ”  
**March 22 @ 2:07 am CST**

**Announcements:**  
LoverBoy<3 : “`It’s more of an informational video than content, though, so no suggestions this time :( ` ”  
**March 22 @ 2:08 am CST**

Lance showers and puts on the crop top, cheeky “boy shorts”, and knee socks that he bought at Target when Veronica was in the produce section earlier this week. He considers applying makeup to the bruises on his body but decides that if he is going to sell this, he needs to go all in.

He stuffs a blanket under the door to the guest room hoping that he won’t be heard, takes a deep breath, and sits on the edge of his/Veronica’s/the guest bed to stream.

“Hey, guys!” Lance beams quietly. “Sorry I haven’t been live this week. I missed you all so much! But the reason… Well, I’m in a different location, obviously, because, you see...” He traces his bruises with delicate fingers. “I got myself into a little bit of trouble.”

Even though he disabled suggestions and donations, sympathetic comments fill the screen. It’s not as much as usual, but Lance expected that. 

_**diaosawr**_**:**" `aww, poor baby`"

_**CheapCreep**_**:**" `Fuck, Sombady realey fucked you up, huh?`"

_**Space_Daddy**_**:**" `Are you safe now?`"

“I’m okay now,” he grins, “but I was actually hoping that _you_ could get me into _more_ trouble. I had this idea: Since I can’t do shows at my place… what if I filmed at yours? I won’t be able to do a whole lot of streams in the coming months, so I was hoping that you’d like to see me get fucked by someone else. Someone like _you_,” he purrs.

Lance wasn’t planning on trying to cum for this stream, but with his excitement and nerves, he is already half hard. He gropes himself casually as he continues.

“In a few days, I’m going to start an auction, but instead of merch, you’ll get me! Haha! Highest bidder gets my virginity.” 

The comments explode.

_**josh6975**_**:**" `Your perfect`"

_**big00mickey**_**:** "`my wife: Honey what happened to our savings?  
Me: hahahaha, nothing ;)`"

_**Space_Daddy**_**:** "`...`"

_**KRAZYKID1986**_**:** "`youre fucking fucked`"

_**80085**_**:** "`I am going to ruin your fuck hole!`"

Lance blushes hard as if he is talking in person to the one who is going to fuck him. He giggles and falls back against the mattress so that the underwear failing to contain his hardening cock is on display.

“_God_,” he moans. “I hope you make me cry.”

Lance kicks off his boy shorts and spreads his legs. He doesn’t often jerk himself off by simply chasing pleasure, especially not during a show, but right now, Lance thinks he deserves it. He lets himself do whatever he wants to himself until he cums.

He licks the semen from his hand with kitten-like flicks of his tongue and swallows to clean up the mess. 

“I hope we see each other very soon,” he croons, writhing in the subtle afterglow of his orgasm. “Thank you for listening today. Until then, this is Lover Boy, signing off!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually the first chunk of the chapter I was working on, but I think y'all have waited long enough, lol. Next update should be soon (although it may be shorter than usual). I don't want to rush the sex chapter or squish it, so there may be a little bit of a wait for that, but exams are over, so I can write without feeling like I should be doing something else, lol


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *jaws music plays*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the consent laws to which Lance alludes are not accurate. For the sake of this fic, the age of consent is simply 16.
> 
> Also, pretend that "Cielo Libre" is a big-ish city (known for the Galaxy Garrison) that has suburbs and boonies.
> 
> And TW for homophobia and transphobia (which is a reoccurring theme, so...)

Keith doesn’t seem to note anything the next morning other than the fact that Lance took a shower at some point in the night. 

Lance’s pleasure fantasies go wild imagining how Keith would react to seeing Lance in his knee socks and crop top. He would probably blush like did when he discovered Lance’s sex toy collection. Red and tongue-tied. Embarrassed but impressed. 

But even a flustered Keith doesn’t measure up to the other crazy scenarios in Lance’s head about his next stream. He doesn’t have to be too creative or think too hard either because his email inbox is chock-full of people describing exactly what they intend to do to him. Most of them are like, “I will put my penis into your asshole :0 ;)”, but a few are like, “I’m going to take you downstairs, tie you up, fuck you until you pass out, and never let you go ;)”. 

Lance is black-listing scary users from the auction. 

Although he planned to do this later in the week, he gets too anxious and starts the bidding that Sunday afternoon at $300 after Keith leaves. He feels bad about the price at first— like his services can’t possibly be worth that much— but people give $500 for mere suggestions sometimes. Surely it’s okay for him to value his virginity more than that.

He feels less bad as soon as people start bidding. By the end of the first hour, the price is up to $1200. Lance tries not to obsess over his phone as he gets an email notification every time there is a new bid. As desperate as he is to read every comment, to note every bid, he makes himself put the phone away for the remainder of the auction.

Besides, more immediate matters need his attention. 

“Lance.” Veronica knocks on the door frame. “Mami is here… Do you… Will you see her?”

Lance bites back a stressed scream. “Yeah, of course.”

Mamá is waiting in the kitchenette wearing church clothes. She stares at the counter blankly and fiddles with her bracelet. When she sees Lance, she rises to meet him, but then she thinks better of it and sits back down. 

Lance hesitates. What is he supposed to say? He stands just out of her reach.

“I’ll give you two some space,” Veronica says, “but I’ll come back if you need me.” She squeezes Lance’s shoulder and then leaves him with their mother.

“Lancito,” Mamá starts, her voice already wrought with emotion. Lance braces himself for manipulation, for his mother to guilt him for causing her pain, for making her hurt him; he is expecting her to make him come home. Instead, she takes a centering breath and says, “I am sorry, mijo. I can think of a million reasons to explain my actions, but not one reason that justifies them. I’m so sorry.”

Lance shifts uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond.

“I talked to Father Guevera today, and he told me that I should hear you out. You… I want to understand you, Lance. I don’t understand at all how you could- But even worse is how I- I hurt you. I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I… Can you forgive me?”

Lance sighs, shoulders sagging. “I don’t know.” He feels like such a jerk for saying so, but he doesn’t want to lie to her about his feelings. “You really scared me, Mamá. I always thought- y’know- I always thought that at least _you_ would have my back through thick and thin, but I mean, you _ripped my underwear off of my body_. How can I just,” he gestures helplessly, “let that go?”

Mamá holds her hands to her chest and tucks her chin defensively. “Why were you wearing girl’s underwear?” she asks quietly.

She seems genuine in her concern, but that only makes Lance feel worse. 

“I already told you,” he says. “I like the way it looks. Does there have to be another reason to wear something? I like it. And- and there’s nothing wrong with it.” He feels the color rising in his face, but he does his best not to crumble in on himself just to make his mom feel better.

Mamá’s face twitches in disgust. “But you’re a _boy_.” She can’t seem to make herself look at her son as she speaks to him. “Do you wear them often? Daily?”

“Mom…” Lance winces. “That’s really none of your business.”

Mamá looks up like she never thought about it like that. Lance notices her jaw clench and unclench as she considers two opposing ideas. “You can think for yourself, you know. You don’t have to accept everything Veronica tells you. You know you’re doing something wrong.”

Lance flushes several shades darker, embarrassment quickly ceding to anger. “I can think for myself, but only if I agree with you. Is that it?” He scoffs like he can’t believe how quickly she switched from trying to understand him to invalidating what he has to say. “I thought you came here to listen! To understand? Now you’re telling me that I’m wrong? _I’m_ wrong. You say it’s what I’m doing, but you don’t _know_ what I’m doing! You don’t know _anything_. I-” He scrunches his face to try to keep his angry tears from falling. “I thought you wanted to understand me.”

Mamá blinks back tears of her own at his outburst, but she nods. “Please, mijo.”

Lance takes a deep breath. He’s not like Marco. He can control his emotions. 

He sits next to her, and she takes his hand. 

“Mami, I-“ his voice falters. He swallows and tries again. “I’m bi.” She doesn’t seem to understand, so he explains, “That is bisexual. It means I like boys and girls.”

Mamá traces Lance's knuckles with her thumb as a sign of affection, and her reaction ignites a flicker of hope in him.

“You _do_ like girls then?” she asks.

“That’s what I just said, yeah. A-and boys” Maybe she _can_ understand him.

Mamá brings Lance’s hand to her heart and holds it there. “Then, baby… Could you _only_ like girls? I mean, only date girls? For me? For your father? For little Nadia and Sylvio?” She squeezes his hand tighter. “Please, Lance. If you could just _pretend_ to be normal, I think- I mean, no one has to know what you’re thinking- so we could be okay.”

The young hope in Lance dies with that. He twists his hand out of her grasp and stands. 

“Yeah,” he says hollowly. “I can do that.” He starts away, but his mother calls after him. 

“Wait! Then, will you come home with me?” 

A chill runs through Lance. “What about Marco?” he asks.

Mamá almost rolls her eyes. “He’s grounded, just like you.” She says it as if it’s obvious. Equal punishments for equal offenses.

Lance closes his eyes. He is _not_ going to cry this time. But he has never been so upset to hear that Marco is in trouble. _Just like me?_

“I’m not ready to go home,” he says. 

“But-!” Mamá stands. “I’ll tell him that it was a misunderstanding! Then Marco won’t bother you. He doesn’t have to know! He didn’t mean to hurt you, Lance. He was just scared.”

Lance opens his eyes, bitterness seeping through every orifice on his face. “No. I’m not ready. I need to work on my ‘_act_.’”

—

Despite everything going on in his life, Lance can’t stay angry when the auction ends at midnight. He stares in disbelief at the number on his phone screen, counting and recounting the zeroes to be sure of the value. 

$10,000. From one person. For Lance. For his body. For his virginity.

The boy is fucking thrilled. Of course, he doesn’t want to get too attached before he decides whether or not “Space_Daddy” is a murderer, but honestly, even if the guy is a total creep, it’s ten _thousand_ dollars. 

Space_Daddy greets Lance almost immediately with an email.

To: me  
From: High Silver (Space_Daddy)  
Subject: I guess I buy sex on the internet now??  
I was getting very alarmed by the comment section, and I didn’t want anyone to hurt you, so I panicked at the end of the auction and put in a lot of money. Sorry if you were planning for someone specific to win. I don’t mind if you go with your original plan if that’s the case. I just want you to be safe.

Lance blushes, and his heart flutters. This guy cares about him?

To: High Silver (Space_Daddy)  
From: me  
Re: I guess I buy sex on the internet now??  
Haha, no. There was no secret plan. As long as you’re not a murderer, I’d like to work with you. This will be my next stream, so I’m hoping to do it sooner rather than later. Are you available in the next couple of weeks? (And where do you live? lol)

To: me  
From: High Silver (Space_Daddy)  
Re: I guess I buy sex on the internet now??  
I’m local to Cielo Libre, Arizona. Did you genuinely want to film at my place, or do you want to meet somewhere closer to where you live? I can pay for you to fly somewhere too if that’s what you prefer, but my door is open to you. Also, I’m available any weekend before the last week of April.

Lance pauses. Cielo Libre? That's where Veronica lives. And then he remembers, _That’s where I am right now_.

Lance stops breathing as if avoiding the detection of a passerby.

Could Space_Daddy be a stalker? 

But he is not ordering or pressuring Lance into doing anything. Surely a stalker wouldn’t give him so many outs. Space_Daddy seems genuinely nice. Besides, Lance _wants_ to do this.

To: High Silver (Space_Daddy)  
From: me  
Re: I guess I buy sex on the internet now??  
I’ll come to you. I don’t want you to know my real name and location, haha. Plus, I’m worried that a hotel or something might have shoddy internet. 

They email back and forth until all of the details for the stream are sorted and Lance gets a pretty good idea of Space_Daddy’s kinks and preferences. When he finally puts down his phone, it’s 3:00 am! Even though it is already so late, Lance can’t sleep. He is so excited for the show!

He is going to have sex! With a real person! 

A real person who’s nearby... What if he has seen him before? 

Every stranger who Lance has ever given a second glance comes to mind. 

_Stop this_, he scolds himself.

He needs to keep his fantasies in check: People who spend money on internet hookers are probably not very attractive themselves. It does him no good to imagine a sexy prince who will whisk him away. It’s not that Lance has a standard for physical appearances; it’s just that he wants to be prepared for reality.

Despite reason, he continues imagining silver foxes with silver tongues sweet-talking him to ecstasy. And kissing him. And touching him. And...

—

That Monday at school, the duo of a sleepless night and shamelessly horny thoughts keep Lance so distracted that he doesn’t even realize that Keith isn't speaking to him until Pidge points it out.

“What did you do this time?” she asks.

Keith’s glare snaps Lance out of his daze.

“Wait.” Lance furrows his brow as he tries to decrypt the look in Keith’s eyes. “_Did_ I do something?”

Keith huffs and snatches his stuff off of the table. “Are you fucking serious?”

Lance shares a confused look with Hunk and Pidge. 

Lance says, “What are you-”

“You forgot to sign out of your email on my phone,” Keith says through gritted teeth before stomping away.

Lance feels the earth shift under his feet, and he falls out of his chair.

“Lance?” Hunk peeks over the table. “What is that about?”

Lance scrambles after Keith without an explanation to his other friends.

“What do you mean ‘I didn’t sign out of my email’?” Lance demands. “D-did you _read_ my emails?!”

“What the fuck do you think?” Keith clenches his fists and keeps marching until he has led Lance to an empty hallway. Then he turns around, surprising Lance with an anguished look of “How could you?” rather than “How dare you?”

Lance wraps his arms around himself. “Why did you do that?” he asks, ashamed.

Keith leans back against the wall and slides down with his hands covering his face. “I thought they were for me at first,” he explains. “I was super freaked out. They said- But then I realized they were for _you_, and I got even more freaked out, and then I was going to call you, but then I started getting fucking _auction_ notifications, and the messages attached to those were so fucking disgusting that I-” Keith takes a shaky breath. “I didn’t know what to do…”

Lance crouches next to Keith, but the other isn’t finished.

“And then _you_ started _conversing_ with one of these fucking creeps, like ‘Hehe, hope you aren’t a murderer!’, with no fucking precautions whatsoever, even though this rando lives in the fucking _city_ ! Like, _Lance_, how could you be so fucking stupid? And what are you even planning to do? Are you really going to go this random address alone to meet up with this random person who is paying thousands of dollars to fuck some kid?”

“He’s not-”

“No! Shut Up!” Keith makes that face that Marco makes when he might cry but chooses anger instead. “Did you even lookup the address he gave you?”

“I-”

“It’s in the fucking _woods_, Lance! This creep is trying to lure you out into the woods to fucking fuck him! And if that’s what he _says_ is going to happen, the what _fuck_ do you think is _really_ going to happen?”

Lance swallows and digs his nails into his arms.

“Well?” Keith demands, pushing Lance’s shoulder so that he loses his balance and falls onto his ass.

Lance’s face is burning. “I need the money,” he says. “I mean, _Keith_. It’s ten thousand dollars. That’s like… a thousand plus ten!”

“That’s _times_ ten,” Keith grumbles. Then he gasps in realization. “Oh, my god. _This_ is your fucking ‘job’?! What the _fuck_, Lance? You’ve been buying us food, and you’ve been paying me with your dirty whore money? And for what? For your dick collection? God. Is that why you have so many? Fuck. I don’t want your fucking money. I’m getting a real job. Don’t pay for my fucking shit with your dirty fucking money. You-”

“Keith!” Lance cuts him off. “I get it! I’m a dirty fucking whore! But I _need_ this money. I’m not like you and Hunk and Pidge. _If_ I can even get into a college, they aren’t going to give me a scholarship. I need this money for school.”

The pause here feels longer than it probably is as Lance and Keith study each other— each trying to read the other’s face while masking his own.

“For _school_,” Keith says finally. “I doubt many schools want their students whoring themselves out for the whole world to see.” He leans his head back against the wall. “_Fuck_, Lance. This is dangerous. I should fucking report you.”

“No!” Lance pulls Keith forward by the wrists to make him look at him. “_Keith_, you _can’t_! If you report me, then I’ll lose _everything_. Please, Keith. Don’t do this. I know it’s dangerous, but come on! It’s ten _thousand_ dollars! _Please_, Keith.”

Keith looks down at Lance’s grip on his wrists. Then he glances to the side, and his mouth twitches like something sour is about to escape. “_Fine_,” he caves. 

Lance’s face splits into a relieved grin. He loosens his hold and seizes Keith instead by the hands. “Thank you! God, please don’t tell anybody. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll-”

“On one condition.”

Keith says it so darkly that Lance’s smile falters. “What?”

“I’m not letting you go alone to some rando’s cabin in the woods.”

Lance tries to follow Keith’s flitting gaze to perhaps understand what he is trying to say. “What do you mean?”

Keith squeezes Lance’s hands, swallows, then makes direct eye contact. “I’m going with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahahhaaha
> 
> I lied. I'm sorry. It took a long time to get this chapter out _and_ it's long(er than other chapters)!
> 
> But I am so fucking hyped for the next chapter, holy shit.
> 
> hehehehehehehehehe


End file.
